


How Bucky Finally Escaped Retail... Or Something Like That.

by Katefkndoes



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Retail, Bucky Barnes is an idiot, F/M, M/M, Sam Wilson is a Gift, WIP, Work In Progress, i dont even know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:10:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 31,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katefkndoes/pseuds/Katefkndoes
Summary: Bucky works in retail... which he hates, with the exception of a few of his close friends. And the new recruit... who is hot as all hell.Um, yeah, I suck at summaries.Also, feedback is appreciated. Thanks :-)





	1. Chapter 1

“You’ll never guess what I found out,” Darcy said with a squeak as she walked over to the customer services desk – otherwise known as ‘The Pit’.  Bucky was leaning against the counter and doing his level best to scare customers away with his disapproving stare.  It wasn’t unusual for Darcy to come over and talk to him – everyone in the store knew she had a bit of a crush on him – but he didn’t really mind because she was the only one besides Natasha who bothered to keep him apprised of the current goings on in the store.  (Even though he claimed he didn’t care what happened it broke up the monotony of the day to hear the latest gossip and be kept in the loop).  He looked at her for a long moment, and then offered her a shrug.

“No, but I’m willing to bet you’re going to tell me.”  While he liked to be up to date with the latest gossip, it seemed beneath him to admit it.  And he was working on his own brand of inexplicably charming indignation.  (He wasn’t sure that what he managed could be called charming, but he was fairly sure his resting face conveyed his general hatred of everyone).

“Rumlow’s getting fired,” she said, with glance over her shoulder, as though she thought the outgoing manager was going to be listening.  “He got caught fucking around with Donna in the customer washroom.”  Bucky pulled a face; he didn’t need the mental image of those two going at it anywhere, let alone, the always flooding toilet cubical.  (And really, _why_ exactly would someone not fix that already?)  He looked at her with disgust, to which she replied, “I know, right?”

“So _that’s_ what he’s been doing when he’s not answering my tannoys,” he said, rolling his eyes.  “How do you know, anyway?  He’s literally just gone in for his meeting with HR.”  While he loathed Rumlow, he’d gotten himself mildly excited about the prospect of getting rid of one of the useless lumps of flesh – otherwise known as managers - before, only to be disappointed when they somehow slithered their way out of trouble.

“Natasha is taking notes.”  Darcy replied with a smirk.  That really did explain it all, Natasha made everything her business.  In fact, having been called in to take notes, she had fired off a text to Darcy, and the younger girl had been waiting for her in the toilet a mere half an hour later during the prearranged toilet break.

“I don’t know why they always choose her?  She tells everyone what’s going on.”  Bucky shrugged, the place was becoming a joke.  And by becoming what he really meant was that it had long since gone past been joke and was fast approaching parody levels of ridiculous.

“I think Fury likes that.  He probably thinks it will keep the rest of us in line.”  She shrugged, stepping out of the way as a customer approached the desk.  “Oh well, looks like we’re going to have to find another place to conduct our sordid affair,” she said with a wink, and walked off back to her own department, leaving Bucky to shake his head.

Most of the time Bucky tried to keep his face a mask of perpetual annoyance – he found that tended to keep many of the customers away, and really, considering he seemed to be doing eight people’s jobs all for minimum wage with no chance of self-improvement he had to take what little job satisfaction he could.  As Darcy left, a young man approached the desk holding a pack of CDs, Bucky rolled his eyes.  There was literally a four foot sign at the front of the store which read “Please pay here.”  They really couldn’t have made it any easier for people. He just didn’t understand why people couldn’t read signs. 

“Tills are at the front, pal.”  He pointed towards the checkouts, where Sharon was looking increasingly frustrated.  Bucky smirked as she looked over at him in dismay, for once she was the one with the queue and he certainly wasn’t about to help her when all she did was wind him up.  Besides, he had enough work of his own to be getting on with.  And really, why the hell was it _his_ responsibility to make sure the sales colleagues were following up on their stock orders when all they did was stand around playing Pokémon Go, or whatever new game had been released, on their phones.

Sadly, the rest of the day did not pass so quietly, and four hours later, Bucky found himself stomping into the canteen and practically throwing his food onto the table.  Had anyone other than Natasha been sitting there he might have received a torrent of abuse in response to his shock entrance, but as it was the red-head merely looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“That bad?”  She questioned, having grown accustomed to Bucky’s outbursts.  They had known each other for years and Natasha didn’t exactly startle easily.

“Well, Sitwell is about as much use as a chocolate tea pot, a customer came in with the sole intention of yelling at me – they told me as much, fucking asshole – and Darcy is the only one currently on the floor who is capable of performing a basic exchange.  I need a new job.”  He sighed, pulling out his bottle of coke and wishing he’d had the foresight to infuse it with a bit of Southern Comfort – around half a bottle should have done it.  Natasha looked about as guilty as she ever managed to do, which wasn’t very.

“Sorry, I guess everyone got caught up with Rumlow’s disciplinary.”  She turned and looked around, making sure there was no one coming down the corridor, before she lowered her voice.  “The snivelling coward threw Pierce to the dogs.  Something about writing off stock then selling it for his own profit.  But, obviously, you don’t know anything about it.  Needless to say, Nick’s pissed, so it looks like we’ll be getting a new manager sooner rather than later.”

“That’s probably the best news I’ve had in a long time.”  Bucky said, honestly.  So, what if he was a terrible person?  He was sick of being treated like shit by the managers, just because he wasn’t a mindless idiot.  Hell, Natasha was one of the best sales associates in the company, and even she had been given a hard time for speaking her mind.  (Fortunately for her, Nick Fury, their area manager, saw her as a surrogate daughter and had vetoed any attempt to fire her.  The same couldn’t be said for him).

“I had a grin on my face the whole time I was taking notes.”  She grinned manically, Bucky couldn’t recall another time when she’d appeared so happy, and there was something deeply creepy about seeing her smile like that.  Natasha was definitely not a woman to be fucked with.  “Nick says we could have a new manager as soon as next week.”

“Surprised he hasn’t asked you to step up,” Bucky said, somewhat bitter that no one ever considered him for such a role – even if he was determined to get out of retail as soon as possible.  There had been a time, what felt like an eternity previously, when he had enjoyed meeting new people.  Now, though, he hated them.  All people.  Because people, he had discovered, were generally bastards.  Natasha looked at him for a long time, as if trying to get a read on his mood.

“I’m not done with college yet.  And when I am, there is no way I’m staying in this hell hole.”  Once upon a time that had been Bucky’s attitude, but that was many years and a lot of temper tantrums ago.

“I’m starting to worry that I’m a lifer.”  He shuddered, taking an angry bite at his apple.

“I’m starting to worry that I’m going to have to beat some sense into you.”  Bucky blinked several times.  “You have a degree in engineering; you _definitely_ shouldn’t still be working here.”  It was a degree that was rapidly becoming outdated, and he felt the weight of it pressing down on him during his increasingly frequent moments of weakness.

“I’m saving the money for a my…” She cut him off.  It was an old argument, and she seemed convinced that one day she would win.

“I know, I know.”  She raised her hand to silence his protests.  “But you’ve been saying that for two years.  Have you even spoken to anyone about a scholarship?  What about Stark?  You know he has a penchant for fellow engineers, the guy has more money than God, I could ask Fury to set up a meeting.”  Bucky shrugged, he had been out of education for three years (after studying part-time for the best part of six), partially because any job in engineering required experience – which he couldn’t get – or a master’s degree – which he certainly couldn’t afford.  “I’m just saying, think about it.”

“I will, Nat.”  He took a drink of coke.  Natasha shot him a disbelieving look.  At least she’d stopped actively arguing with him about it.  He didn’t like the idea that he might owe anyone for any of his success, and he certainly only wanted to be accountable for his own failures.  And while he doubted whether Stark would be interested in his limited skillset, he wasn’t quite ready to confirm that suspicion.

“You’re too smart to waste your life as some minimum wage technical assistant.”  With that she left the room and Bucky shut his eyes, wondering exactly when his life had turned into one monotonous pile of shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky’s whole week had only served to convince him that he’d had suffered through more than enough time working in retail.  Even the simple things had gone horrifically and customers were insistent on picking fights with him.  (A little niggling thought played at the corners of the mind, telling him that the only common denominator in all those agitated customers was his presence, but he pushed that thought aside).  It was _definitely_ time to start looking at other options; he couldn’t cope with another Black Friday in a place that didn’t respect him as an individual.  Plus, it was embarrassing that members of his class were working high end jobs and he was stuck working the same job he’d started as a freshman over eight years previously.

He hated the place.  He hated everything about it, from the stupid name badge that _proudly_ displayed the name James, to the customers who just didn’t listen when he told them they couldn’t return their eleven-month-old, smashed screen, iPhone for a full refund.  He hated the stupid uniform which was tight in all the wrong places and baggy in the rest.  He hated that people spoke to him like a child despite the fact that he was twenty-eight years old.  He hated that most of his managers didn’t know how to do half the things he did.  And, after eight years working in the same damn store, he was pretty sure he loathed practically every colleague in the place.  Hell, if the store burned down, he’d probably throw himself a party he couldn’t afford and laugh all the way to the unemployment office.

So, when they were told they had a new manager starting as of Sunday – and really didn’t it just sum up how stupid the place was when his working week started on a damn Sunday – he figured it was just another person for him to hate.  Because, you know, he was just optimistic like that.  It was less a case of judging a book by its cover, and more judging a book by a critic’s review who hadn’t even bothered to read it.  Still, given the fact that Rumlow had been fired for fucking another colleague in the washroom and Pierce had been running deals behind the company’s back for the best part of four years before it was discovered, it hardly seemed like head office were particularly concerned about the state of the staff at their Brooklyn store.  Or at least not when their flagship store in Manhattan was running so well - every _single_ company newsletter was jam packed with stories from Manhattan.

Brooklyn rarely featured.  Though admittedly that might have been for the best given the staffing situation.

Over half of the staff had been replaced in the preceding six months.  From the three who lost their jobs for mooning a customer, to the one who had been fired for blatant racism, and the one who had been stealing Beats headphones for over two years.  And really, when Bucky was starting to look like their model employee and he was late every other shift, you just knew things were going to shit.

It was a Sunday morning and Bucky was waiting for Gabe to open the door, when a man pulled up next to the store on a vintage motor cycle.  If there was one thing Bucky hated more than regular customers, it was customers who didn’t appreciate Sunday opening hours.  There was _nothing_ that incited rage in him more than the sight of customers prowling around in front of the doors like they were going to open early just for them.

“We don’t open till eleven, pal.”  He said without looking up, a fake pleasantness to his voice that he hated.  He saw the man pause for a few seconds as Gabe unlocked the door, but as soon as the door opened he made his way to the door.  Bucky gritted his teeth, he hated people more than he could express.  Why couldn’t idiot customers just listen to what he was saying, instead of assuming they had the right to treat the store like their home, and staff members like their slaves?  He span around, thinly veiled anger spread across his features.  “Look, I just said we don’t open till eleven.  You can’t come in.”  He said, harsher than was strictly necessary.

This gave the man pause, and he pulled his helmet over his head, leaving Bucky to gawp at the most attractive face he had seen in a long time.  The man dragged one large hand through his mused blond hair, and gave a half smile.

“Sorry, sorry.”  He said, pulling his hand down from his hair and proffering it to Bucky, who shook it in a daze of hormonal lust.  “Steve Rogers.”  He said by way of greeting, and motioned to the door like somehow that name and his face – _his beautiful face_ , Bucky’s mind corrected – should grant him access to the building.  For his part Bucky was momentarily thrown, because that face could definitely grant the stranger access to his bed, but Steve was a customer, and therefore his sworn enemy.  Plus, the list of potential sex locations in the store was severely limited – and most had been utilized on multiple occasions.  In fact, Bucky swore that if you shone a black light in the public washroom it would be like looking a Jackson Pollack.

(As a side note, if Bucky didn’t work in the store he wouldn’t believe half of the shit that went down.  When Bucky had first started one of their former Deputy Managers had gotten a young Sales Assistant pregnant and denied the child was his despite evidence to the contrary.  Like, seriously, the kid looked just like his daddy.  The previous Christmas, a group of men had been arrested for selling assault rifles out of the back of a van in front of the store.  And just three weeks ago, someone had _literally_ cut a hole in the wall of the store to steal a bunch of Playstation 4’s.  It really was kind of ridiculous.)

Evidently Bucky had been silent for a while, because the man was now looking at him with eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Hnnngh.”  He said, or rather groaned in a most unfortunate manner.  Behind him Gabe snorted in amusement.   _Great, Bucky, just fucking great._

“Late night?”  Steve smiled and Bucky _wished_ he hadn’t fallen asleep at half eleven to Doctor Who playing on Netflix, because then he might have had some sort of response to offer the blond.  Still, if Steve was at all fazed by his lack of response he didn’t show it, and merely continued to talk.  “Today’s my first day, and I’m going to need someone to show me around.  I guess you’re the unlucky man for the job.”  Bucky opened his mouth to reply, he really did, but he still didn’t have words, which was _so_ unlike him.

“Hey man, I didn’t realize we were getting any new staff.  Bucky works on the Customer Services Desk, he’s probably not best placed to show you around.”  Gabe answered for him, which was probably for the best.  He nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, head office transferred me from the Manhattan branch,” Steve explained.

“Unlucky,” Gabe muttered, and Steve gave him a vague nod of agreement.

“At least I don’t have to travel into the city every day,” Steve said, reasonably.  “Anyway, I used to work in Customer Service so it’s probably best that I start with where I’m familiar,” he offered Bucky a smile and Gabe merely shrugged.

“It’s your funeral.”  Gabe said with a big smile, and headed inside.

The two other men followed, and Steve followed Bucky over to the desk.

Oddly enough the cleaning fairies hadn’t arrived overnight, and the department was in just as much of a state as it was when he left at nine the night before.  He sighed.  Same shit different day.  It was desperately hard to get excited about a job that offered nothing but misery.

“So, I never did get your name.”  Steve said, causing the brunet to startle.  He hadn’t really been paying attention to the man once they’d entered the building – too overcome with his pending annoyance to focus on anything else.  “I, uh, mean, not officially at least.”  He gestured to the black badge which adorned his shirt.  “I mean your badge says James, but, uh, the other guy,” he stuttered, obviously embarrassed that he didn’t know Gabe’s name, “he called you Bucky.”

Even under the desk’s spotlights Steve managed to look radiant.  He was precisely the kind of complication that Bucky didn’t need in his life.  Back when he was young, a new starter who figured he’d only be here a couple of years while he finished his degree, he had gotten involved with fellow member of staff, Wanda.  However, her family had thought him rather beneath her, after all who wanted a poor little orphan boy in the family?  Since that debacle – which ended with him working opposite shift to avoid her until she left three months later – he vowed he would never again be tempted by a workplace romance.  (And really, who was doing the better out of that deal?  Because Wanda was engaged, owned a house and was working for an insurance firm.  His life really fucking sucked).

He was drawn from his thoughts once more, by Steve waving a big hand in front of his face.  Didn’t it just sum up his life that he was making a complete ass out of himself in front of the hottest guy he had seen in a long time?

“Uh, sorry, I just – one of those days I guess.”  Steve nodded in understanding.  “I’m James, I mean, my name is James but most people tend to call me Bucky.”

“And do you _like_ being called Bucky?”  Steve asked, with a slight smirk.

“Well, I like it a lot more than I enjoy being called _James._ ”  Bucky muttered in response.  Every foster family he had ever been set up with had insisted on calling him James, but his own mother had only ever called him Bucky – for his middle name Buchanan.  Steve looked thoughtful for a moment.

“So why does your name badge say James, then?”  Steve asked, and Bucky blinked at the question.  No one had ever asked him that before.  Sure, everyone knew that Bucky wasn’t his real name, but no one had asked whether he liked it more than James.

“Pierce – our old manager – insisted that it wasn’t _work appropriate_ to have nicknames on our badges.”  He rolled his eyes.  Reason he hated the place number eight hundred and forty six.  Steve made a ‘huh’ sort-of noise.

“Well, we’ll have to get you a new badge then.”  He said thoughtfully.  “I’ve never understood why people who want their staff to be mindless, soulless androids.  I mean, people still come into a store because of the personal touch, why take that away?”  Bucky blinked several times.  “I go to a store because I want to speak to a human – not some cookie cutter robot.”  It seemed like an odd thing to say, but Bucky was more concerned with the number of jobs he had to complete before the door opened.

“Yeah, well, we’re just lowly grunts, who are we to judge?  It’s not like any of the managers will ever pay attention to us.”  He let out a bitter laugh, as he opened the till drawer and began to cash up for the day.  It wasn’t as though he meant to beat Steve down on his first day, but he couldn’t see anything getting better in the foreseeable future.  Better for the blond to know what he was getting himself into than think it was a great place to work.

“Uh,” Steve laughed and bit his lip.  Bucky cashed up quickly and shut the till drawer.

“Sorry to bring you down before you’ve even got started.  But you can ask any of us long term staff and they’ll tell you the same.  I mean, it’s great to have a job, but things just seem to get worse.  I guess, uh, I’ve worked here too long.”  He sighed.  It wasn’t a lie.  Things hadn’t seemed _quite_ so bad for the first few years, but having seen complete idiots promoted over him, and being forced to jump through hoops to please managers he _knew_ had no idea what the hell they were doing.

“How long have you worked here?”  The blond asked, bending down to help Bucky sort through the previous day’s returns.  And even if the blond had no clue what had to be done with them, Bucky appreciated the gesture.

“A little short of nine years,” Bucky admitted with a grimace.  “It was only supposed to be a weekend job.  That worked out really well for me, didn’t it?”

“Ever thought of stepping into management?”  Steve asked, tilting his head to one side, and observing Bucky with keen eyes.  The brunet blinked several times, almost dropping the ipod he was holding.  It was almost as though Steve had read his mind.  He assumed that meant that things were no better in the Manhattan branch.

“I don’t think I’m management material.”  Bucky said flatly.

“I heard the store was looking for managers?”  Steve asked, innocently.

“Oh yeah, we’re down an Assistant and a Store Manager.  Do not get me started on how much of a fuck up that whole situation was.  And really, we might as well only have one team leader because the rest of the management team are fucking useless.”  Bucky picked up an armful of cables and Steve followed hefting a large screen TV up onto one of his expansive shoulders.  Bucky had to admit there was something really rather attractive about that kind of display of strength.  (And _Jesus_ , he had been working here too long when he was getting turned on by someone carrying a television around.)

“So, the thing is, uh, I’m actually the new General Manager.”  Steve said sheepishly, and Bucky dropped several hundred dollars of leads all across the floor.

“Fuck sake!”  He swore, scrabbling about the floor to retrieve the stock.  And really, fuck Bucky’s life, because, _of course_ the ridiculously hot blond man was the new store manager.  Why wouldn’t God do that to him?  For most people losing one work colleague wouldn’t have been an issue – not when there were over a hundred staff in the store.  However, Bucky only really spoke to Natasha and Darcy from the sales floor since they were the only ones who ever bothered to visit ~~his prision~~ the customer service desk and he had been hoping to add an extra member to his ever-decreasing circle of friends.  Well, that was straight off the fucking table.

As a double punch to Bucky’s gut, not only was the guy beautiful, but he was also far smarter than any of the current managers, and genuinely seemed like a decent person.  But Bucky didn’t like being made a fool out of, and as such he was unduly angry at the blond for deceiving him.  (Even if, said deception was a lie by omission and not outright.)

People, Bucky thought for the second time that day, were fucking assholes.

“Fucking perfect, of course,” he rolled his eyes, and stomped off to replace the stock.  For however brief a time he had found a kindred spirit in Steve, who must have been around his age and understood the eternal disappointment that was a job in customer service.  But, of course, everyone else his age had accomplished something in their life.

“Buck…” Steve said softly, touching his shoulder in an overly familiar gesture.  “I wasn’t trying to catch you out.”

At that moment, Darcy appeared out of nowhere, barrelling towards him in youthful excitement.

“Oh My GOD!”  She practically screamed, almost crashing into him.  “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!  My friend Jane who works in Manhattan, has confirmed that our new manager is some sort of God among men – and really, you’ve seen her boyfriend.  I’m talking, tall, blond, buff and unbelievably…” Steve stepped out from behind end of the gondola which had been obscuring Darcy’s view of him and the brunette went bright red and immediately stopped her wild hand gesturing.

“Uh, hi,” he said, a blush crawling up his face.  He held out his hand.  “I guess that you’re Darcy,” Darcy stared at him for a fraction too long, “Jane told me I should make sure to pass on her love.”  The brunette blinked, looking desperately at Bucky, as though he had all of the answers.

“Do you think he heard that?”  She asked, dimly, still ignoring Steve’s proffered hand.  And Bucky had to laugh, because, really, he felt better about his morning already.

“Well, you were practically screeching so I’m gonna go with, yes.”  Bucky confirmed, and Darcy scrunched up her nose before turning to Steve and finally accepting his handshake.

“It’s really nice to meet you…” she trailed off, realizing she hadn’t even got the man’s name.

“Steve,” he answered with a  wry grin.

“Sooooo, I’m going to go and flush myself down a toilet.”  She said with an overly chipper tone and a forced grin.  Bucky observed that he had never seen her move so quickly, as she sprinted across the store – no doubt to fill Natasha in on the situation.  (Although, knowing Natasha, she probably already knew.  Sometimes Bucky wondered whether she had the store’s security feed linked to her phone.)

“God among men?”  Steve asked, his eyebrows knitting together.  And really, the guy was six foot plus of solid muscle, he didn’t just wake up like that, so there was no use in him playing coy.

“Like you didn’t know that already,” Bucky muttered, and the blond’s blush only darkened.  “And yes, before you ask, she is always like that.”

“Huh, good to know.”  Steve nodded.  “I guess I should go and introduce myself to the rest of the management team,” he added, motioning towards the back of the store, and sounding somewhat awkward.

“Yeah, it’d be awful if someone mistook you for one of the grunts.”  Bucky muttered, still annoyed and, apparently, not knowing when to shut his mouth.

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”  Steve asked, a vaguely amused look on his face which should have been infuriating but instead was rather endearing. And God _fucking_ Damnit, Bucky was annoyed that he kind-of liked the guy.

“I’ve been told I can hold a grudge.”  He replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite himself.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Steve said as he headed off towards the manager’s office.  Bucky watched him leave in silence.

“You’re totally fucked.”  Natasha spoke right behind him, causing him to send several of the leads tumbling to the floor once again.

“What the fuck?  How did you even get here?  Why would you do that to me?  Jesus, Nat.”  Bucky muttered, rearranging the leads on the stand.  The red-head merely blew a bubble with her chewing gum and raised an eyebrow.

“I know that look Barnes.  You’ve got a thing for the new guy.”

“Oh, just fuck off.”  He said, not harshly, and she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t blame me when it ends in tears,” she said as she walked away.  And really, the woman was wearing five inch heels on laminate floor and didn’t make a sound as she walked away.  How the fuck was that possible without a levitation device?  (Though he really wouldn’t be surprised if she had invented one.  In a different life, Natasha would have made an awesome mad scientist).


	3. Chapter 3

“Cheer up, Barnes.”  Called Sitwell as Bucky stormed through the domestic appliances section on his way to the break room.

“Prick,” Bucky muttered to himself, only to receive a dirty look off a customer.   _Probably the fucking mystery shopper_ , he thought bitterly as he stormed through the door to the break room where Natasha was waiting for him.  He threw his bag down in disgust.  “Fuck everyone.”

“Nice to see you too.”  She arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow.  Bucky threw himself into the seat and dropped his head into his arms.  “ _That_ bad?”  Bucky slowly raised his head and looked at her.

“Well, let’s see,” he said sarcastically, “there’s only three of us on all day.  I’ve had a customer scream at me because their washing machine leaked and ruined their floor, I’ve had the guy who came in and handed me a list of things he wanted to buy like I was his personal shopper, and Sitwell _insists_ on answering the phone and handing it to me, like there haven’t been six people in our queue since we opened.  It’s been great, really, _truly_ fantastic.”  He groaned.

“Clint’s been texting me abuse since his shift started,” she admitted.  Clint was another long-suffering customer service colleague, who had been in the business longer than Bucky, and hated it even more than he did most of the time.  The one thing he had going for him was that, _somehow_ , despite the fact that every man in the store had hit on her when she started three years ago (Bucky included), he had managed to snare Natasha’s affections.  And Jesus, they had a weird relationship.  There was something really odd about the somewhat malicious banter they had between them.

“Yeah, he had a vacuum explode on him.  Probably the highlight of my day to be honest,” he said.  And really, just thinking about the cloud of dust that erupted from the vacuum and hit Clint straight in the face was enough to make him smile.  “I wouldn’t touch him if I was you, I’m pretty sure there was cat litter in there.”  Natasha’s nose twitched slightly, which was about as much of a facial reaction as she ever had.  “And people wonder why I _hate_ people.”  He added with a shrug.

“So naturally you work in customer service.  I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think you’re in the wrong line of work.” 

“You’d hate people if you were me.  They’re just fucking selfish, why do they just fucking expect everyone to do _everything_ for them.  I just… I hate people, Nat.  This job would be so much better if no one ever came in.  And the worst thing, the very worst thing, is that we have a bunch of fucking morons running the place.  Seriously, I bet Sitwell has his nose so far up the new guy’s ass that you can’t separate them.  Stupid mother fucking douche.”  Contrary to his random outbursts at work, Bucky was usually relatively laid back.

“You should really calm down, you’re going to end up blowing a blood vessel or some shit.”  She commented, and Bucky groaned.

“I hate everyone.”

“Not the new guy though,” she said with a slight smirk, and Bucky levelled her with a glare.

“Don’t even pretend that you don’t know his name.  He’s been here a whole five hours. You probably know his entire life story at this point.”  The red-head shrugged.  “You might as well just get it over with now.”  Resignation was a familiar emotional state for Bucky.

“Steven Grant Rogers.  Twenty-seven.  Worked in retail since he was sixteen.  Graduated from MIT with highest honours in Engineering and he even managed a minor in Art.  Here’s a random fun fact, he’s also the youngest superstore manager in the whole company.  And that’s just for starters.”  Bucky blinked several times.  Of _course_ , this guy was practically perfect, _why_ wouldn’t he be?

“You scare me.”  He settled on replying.

“I haven’t even spoken to him,” she replied flatly.  And seriously, the girl was like _absurdly_ good.  He vowed never to piss her off, because she would destroy him with ease.  “Anyway, have you heard the latest?”  Bucky shook his head.  “Well, apparently, the store has a mole.  Sitwell is freaking out because someone called head office and has been reporting all the _questionable_ things that are going on in store.  Group security is coming in next week and someone is going to get _fired._ ”  She said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her plump lips.

“At this point I’d generally be more surprised if someone wasn’t getting fired,” he deadpanned, and Natasha arched an eyebrow and offered a slight nod in agreement.  “Seriously, how did this become my life?”

“I ask myself that on a daily basis.”  Clint muttered as he walked in the room.   _Who the fuck is on the desk?_  Apparently Bucky’s face said it all because the shorter brunet pulled up a chair next to him.  “Sam sent me out here to calm down.  I nearly just told his guy to fuck off.  Came in screaming and ranting about his faulty TV and it turned out he bought it from fucking Best Buy.  When I tried to point it out?  He just looked at me like I was retarded and said ‘that’s not my problem it’s yours’.  I’d like to know how it’s my problem that the guy can’t even go to the right fucking store.  I fucking hate idiots.”  Natasha shot them both a disappointed look as she walked out staffroom.

“Seriously, they pay us like ten bucks an hour to be treated like dirt.  Fuck this place.”  Bucky sighed.  “If you wanna stay in here for a while, I’ll go back, it’ll give me an excuse to come back out here later.  Plus, it’s not fair to Sam to have us both out here.”

“I swear that guy is a saint.  He’s been helping the same old dear with her PVR for the last twenty minutes while serving the queue and setting up a laptop.”  Sam Wilson was like a customer services machine.

“He makes us all look bad.”

“Give it time.  I’m still convinced I can beat it out of him.”


	4. Chapter 4

Eight o’clock came and went, and Bucky was still trying to solve a customer’s laptop issue.  Not that it was a surprise that the douche had waited until closing time to rock up with his issue, and then refused to leave until something was done about it.  It had taken all of Bucky’s patience not to throw the piece of shit back in the guy’s face.  One quick look at the browser history had explained exactly _how_ he’d managed fuck up his laptop in the space of three weeks.

“If people don’t know how to look at porn without getting a virus they shouldn’t be allowed fucking laptops.”  Clint practically growled as they waited for the computer to recover to factory settings.  “Typical fucking HP taking ten years to do anything, and fucking shitty Windows ten.”  He added, flicking his pen on the work bench. 

The customer was sat looking incredibly smug in the waiting area.  And seriously, there should be some sort of law about coming into a store so late on a fucking Sunday.  Couldn’t he have done without his porn till the morning.

“I’d fuck with the parental control settings if I thought he wouldn’t be back in bitching about it in the morning.  I mean, the helpline is open 24/7 couldn’t he have done us all a favour and just called them?  It’s fucking toll free.  I have better things to do with my life than stare at this fucking computer screen.”  Clint grumbled.

At the front of the store, Sitwell was sat clock watching, and only bothered to speak to them when Steve appeared at the entrance next to him.  If Bucky was shallower he would have noticed how well the blond’s leather jacket clung to his shoulders.  As it was, he was too busy being annoyed.

“Do we have an ETA?”  Sitwell called out.  Bucky ground his teeth together.  The department was completely trashed despite their best efforts.  Sam was in the middle of taking their third pallet of faulty stock to the warehouse, and Bucky had only just discovered they had over five thousand dollars in one of their tills.  (Fucking sales assistants and their inability to walk the extra hundred yards to the _actual tills)._ But of course, banking money was below Sitwell.  (Meaning he didn’t know how to do it).  Beside him, Clint bit back a snarky comment and rolled his eyes.

Naturally, Bucky expected to be left to deal with the department, so he was fairly surprised when Steve made his way over to the desk.

“What can I do to help?”  He asked, and Clint’s mouth actually dropped open a little bit.   _Hey, apparently, it’s not just me,_ Bucky thought.

“We need to put some money in the safe, and there’s a fair bit of stock to go away.  Sam’s handling the returns and the customer’s computer is nearly done.”  Bucky responded.

“Great, so one of you can come with me to sort the money, Sam can carry on taking the stock to the back, and then when we’re done we can all come and finish tidying up, by which point the laptop should be done and we can all get out of here.”  Steve Rogers was the man with the plan, apparently.  And damn if that didn’t make him just that little more attractive.

“You’re my hero.”  Bucky was pretty sure that if his life were a cartoon there would be love hearts bursting out of Clint’s eyes at that proclamation.  Steve merely laughed as he hauled a fifty-five inch LED TV up onto his shoulders.   _That,_ Bucky thought upon seeing it for the second time that day, _is definitely a lot sexier than it ought to be._

“I’ll just put this back while you sort the money.”  He said, and headed across the store as though the box weighed nothing.  Clint and Bucky exchanged impressed glances.

On his way over to the store room, the blond passed a harried looking Sam.  (And Sam was pretty much the most laid-back person Bucky had ever met, so if he was looking stressed then you knew it had been a fucking awful day).  The dark-skinned man looked at his manager for a brief moment before hurrying back to the desk.

“Is he for real?”  Bucky nodded dumbly, as Sam turned to look over at Sitwell who was looking decidedly uncomfortable.  “Sitwell looks like he’s about to shit a brick.  I like the guy already.”

“Yeah, he seems alright.”  Bucky shrugged, they’d had managers who seemed friendly before and it had _always_ ended in tears.  (There was the memorable encounter of one of their (married) managers had with the _barely_ legal student who had been hired to set up the laptops.  Bucky had actually liked Ford so it had come as _quite_ the shock to find him and Leo Bates (their erstwhile manager) in a compromising position in the electrical closet).

“He’s hot too.”  Clint threw in, a careful glance pitched in Bucky’s general direction.

“And _you_ have been spending entirely too much time with Tasha.”  He responded as Sitwell joined their party.  (Evidently, it was fine to lock the doors and leave them unattended when Steve was there to suck up to.)

“Come on boys; let’s get this place ship shape.”  Sitwell grinned, and the muscle in Clint’s jaw tensed.  Fortunately, Steve returned promptly.  (And probably saved Clint his job because the way the blond was gripping the selfie-stick in his hand was not innocent.)

“Right, so Clint you can tidy the repair bench,” Clint saluted, happy to follow the blond’s orders and make a point to their suck-up of an Assistant Manager.  “Bucky, you can come and help me sort the cash,” Sitwell looked _distinctly_ unhappy at the use of Bucky’s nickname, but Steve wasn’t through.  “And Jasper, you can help Sam get the stock away.”  And Bucky was going to go back and rewind the CCTV footage of Sitwell’s face at that particular request because it was pretty much priceless.  In fact, he was going to edit it and play it along to music and watch it on loop.  There was nothing half as satisfying as watching that man’s self-satisfied grin being wiped right off his face.  Next to him Clint grinned almost manically, and Sam elbowed him slightly.  Whether or not he had meant to do it, Steve had managed to ingratiate himself with the Customer Services team.  (And not only because he had managed to address them all by name.)

“I would let him fuck me so hard.  I’d get down on my knees and just accept everything he had to offer,” Clint whispered lewdly in Bucky’s ear as he emptied the cash register.  (Not for the first time Bucky marvelled at the fact that his colleague identified as heterosexual).

“Say it a bit louder; I don’t think he heard you.”  Bucky rolled his eyes as he put the money in a bag.

“Dude, I would be all over that ass.”  His friend continued, making a lewd groan.

“You _cannot_ be aroused by someone’s offer of help.”  Sam interjected as he walked past with a handful of cameras.

“I can, and I am.”  Clint confirmed, and turned to Steve.  “Steve, Captain, my Captain, I was just wondering what it would take to get you to…ahh,” Bucky elbowed his friend (hard) in the side and marched over to the big blond.

“Ready when you are.”  He stated, turning to Clint, almost daring him to comment.  Bucky loved the guy, but he was an acquired taste, and he doubted whether Steve would see the funny side of the Clint’s little joke.

They’d made it half way to the cash office by the time Steve broke the somewhat companionable silence.

“Is he always like that?”  He asked, and Bucky spluttered out a half-laugh, half-yelp.  It was only the guy’s first day and he’d managed to be sexually harassed twice.  (Although given the way he looked Bucky couldn’t imagine that he wasn’t hit on daily).

“You heard that?”

“Kind of hard not to when you’re about four feet away.”  Steve smirked and Bucky closed his eyes with a wince.  At that point, he was convinced that Steve wouldn’t last the week.  He’d be driven off by their inappropriate banter.  (Well, either that, or he would be driven to madness.  Both were equally likely.)

“He doesn’t mean it.  Clint’s… an acquired taste.”  He said after a moment, and to his surprise Steve grinned.

“He kinda reminds me of someone else…” the blond paused and pulled a face at himself.  “Except, without the whole wanting to molest me thing.  That’s pretty weird.”  Had Bucky been drinking he would, most definitely, have ended up wearing said drink at that comment, as it was he made an unattractive spluttering noise.

They sat down in the cash office, and Steve set about sorting out the money bags.  Bucky sat at looked at the blond, _really_ looked at him for several seconds.  He really was idiot-rendering-ly handsome, with golden blond hair, a square jaw and the longest eyelashes Bucky had ever seen.

“What’s your deal, then?”  He asked bluntly.  There was just no way that someone _that_ good-looking was as nice as he was pretending to be.  It was an unpleasant fact – good looking people were generally assholes.  (Yet another reason Bucky hated people).  Steve placed the money bag down and turned to look at his employee.  His eyes were a disturbingly bright blue.  Bucky swallowed.  “Sorry, that was rude.”  He set about counting the money.

“Just a little.”  He responded, but again he was amused rather than annoyed.

“I just mean, well… you seem like this really good guy.”  Steve smiled in a self-effacing manner, which _definitely_ shouldn’t have been attractive as Bucky found it.  “I mean, you’re just not what I would expect.  You ride a bike, get the job done, and, y’know, _actually_ seem to know what you’re doing in a company that seems to despise competency.  And yet _somehow_ you’re a megastore manager at twenty-seven.”

“I don’t follow?”  And if Steve had any interest in _why_ or _how_ , Bucky knew how old he was, it didn’t show on his face.

“I guess, what I’m saying, does your daddy work for head office.”  Steve blinked, and Bucky sighed.  “I’m sorry that was mean.”

“My dad’s dead.”   _Well, fuck._  And wasn’t it just like Bucky’s luck to land himself in such an awkward position.  “My mom too actually.”  Steve said, and Bucky felt his stomach drop.  “I mean, uh, it was a long time ago and I barely remember them.  But I mainly grew up in the system so, yeah.”  Bucky must have been staring because Steve shook his head.  “Yeah, that got deep really quickly.  I promise you, I don’t make a habit of mourning my lack of a family to strangers.”  He shrugged.

“I did too. Grew up in the system that is.”  Steve observed him for a few moments before offering an understanding nod.  “We should get this done, it’s Sunday night, and we all have better things to be doing.”  He changed the subject hastily.

That little voice in the back of his mind needled at him.   _You are **so** fucked, Barnes._


	5. Chapter 5

“Break at half-two,” Natasha said crisply (an order, not a request), as she walked past with a lecherous old man, (Bucky thought his name might have been Richard but he could have imagined that), who had replaced practically every electrical in his house in his pursuit of the young red-head.

“Doesn’t that bother you?”  Bucked asked Clint, who was brazenly searching for raunchy images on the work’s dirty-LAN connected Stark desktop.

“It’s not like I’m gonna whip my dick out and start…” Bucky pulled a face at _that_ mental image.

“I mean Natasha and her – uh – repeat customers.”  Clint looked up from the computer and raised an eyebrow.  And man, he had _definitely_ spent too much time around Nat.

“You do realize that makes her sound like a hooker, right?”  Bucky closed his eyes with a nod.

“When you tell her about this, make sure you mention how truly sorry I looked when I realized.  I love the girl but she’s scary.”  Bucky pursed his lips and shook his head once.  Natasha had once threatened to stab him with a staple gun because he insinuated that she would get off on BDSM.  And he loved the girl, but she was freaking terrifying - even if Bucky was _fairly_ sure that it’d been an idle threat.

“Scarily hot.”  Clint said with a cocky nod.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make _you_ better looking by-proxy.”  Clint elbowed him companionably.

At that moment, a woman stormed into the shop holding a Shark vacuum.  The two men looked at each other and each held out a fist to prepare for their obligatory game of Rock, Paper, Scissors.  (They’d once tried Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock but had gotten confused and ended up with an even angrier customer, so now they stuck to basics).  Naturally, Bucky lost.

“Ten bucks says the filter looks like it’s been rolled around in a dust factory,” Clint said, his shit-eating, customer-greeting smile planted firmly on his face.

“You honestly think I’m that stupid?”  Bucky said with a small smile, and walked to greet the customer at the main returns till.

******

Two hours later, and Bucky was pissed off.  As it turned out the filter on the vacuum was indeed clogged and the conversation went as follows.

_“This doesn’t suck up.”  Bucky dutifully, opened the canister and pulled out the dust covered filter._

_“See, here’s your problem, you just have to take this filter out and wash it.”_

_“I want a refund.”_

Obviously, Bucky had politely declined her, since the machine was not faulty, and she had hit the roof.  The whole thing had culminated with the vacuum being flung at his head.  He’d stepped out of the way and muttered something about damage not being covered by the warranty, and she had stormed out of the building.

After that he’d been dragged into Sitwell’s office and asked to explain himself.  Unsurprisingly, the AssMan, (and Bucky had really watched too many episodes of Chuck), didn’t believe his explanation, even when Clint stepped in to back him up.  He had been threatened with a disciplinary for ‘blatant disregard of customer’s feelings’.   _What about my fucking feelings?_ Sitwell informed him gleefully that the situation would be escalated and that he was lucky that he wasn’t suspended.

“Absolute fucking joke,” he muttered as he stormed into the break room.

“We all know Sitwell’s a complete dick,” Gabe replied, not even looking up from his magazine – something about dirt bikes.

“I don’t know why I even bother.”  Bucky sighed, and Natasha handed him a flask of coffee.  He took a long mouthful before the familiar bitter taste of alcohol hit him.  “Fucking Jesus, Nat, what are you trying to do to me?”  The red-head smiled innocently, and tucked the flask back into her bag.

“It’s my emergency supply.”

“Should I be worried that you just have laced coffee on you at all times?”  Tasha merely shrugged.

“You’ve had a rough day.  Someone’s always had a rough day.”  Gabe nodded silently, indicating he’d also been on the receiving end of Natasha’s stress relief elixir.  “Anyway, it’s not that strong.”  Bucky shook his head but took another mouthful of the coffee anyway.  “And Gabe’s right, Sitwell is a dick, and we’ve all got your back.”

“I’m just pissed off that it’s acceptable for someone to _essentially_ assault me, and _somehow_ it’s my fault.”  What happened to the company’s obligation to assure the safety of its staff members?

“I’m pretty sure they do PSA’s about situations like that,” she commented back, and Bucky smiled despite himself.  He had a sudden flash of a black and white commercial showing him watching himself being beaten by the woman, but failing to intervene.  It was… disconcerting.

“I just hate people.”  He reiterated, and Natasha mouthed along with him with a roll of her eyes.

“I hate to tell you this, but I think you’re in the wrong job.”  Gabe said with an easy smile.  And that _certainly_ wasn’t the first time he’d heard that.

“Man, I need a new job.”  He grumblingly agreed.

“You say that every day.  And yet you’re still here, and you _still_ won’t let me put you in touch with Tony.”  Natasha responded and Bucky sighed, it was an argument neither of them would ever win.

*********

The following morning Bucky was called to Steve’s office.  Needless-to-say, he was _not_ impressed, and stormed through the domestic appliances section before jabbing the security code in to enter the office area.  Steve was sat at his Starkbook typing away quickly, and barely looked up when Bucky stormed in.

“What?”  He half snapped, and internally cringed at his own tone.  He tended to get a irate a little too easily when it came to work.  (That was one of the things he had bonded with his former colleague Bruce about before the older man had left to go and work in medical research of all things.  And what did it say about the state of the economy that a physicist could have to work in such a shit job while he gained voluntary experience in his field? Bucky had no hope.)

“Hi, Bucky, it’s nice to see you too.  How has your day been?”  He said with a grin.   _Little fucking shit._  Bucky rolled his eyes.  “So, I heard you had a run in with a vacuum yesterday.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Sitwell can suck my dick.  The whole thing was a fucking joke, how the hell can _I_ be the one to blame when the customer literally threw something at me?  He needs to get his head out of his ass and…”  Steve drew himself from his seat, and Bucky was struck (not for the first time), how cut he was.  The blond cast a formidable shadow and he might have been intimidated but his manager raised his hands in a calming gesture.

“I was just going to ask if you were okay,” Steve said calmly.  Bucky opened his mouth to argue before the words sunk in.

“I – uh – what?”

“I just wondered whether you were okay?”  Steve shrugged.  “Jasper told me that you’d had an encounter with a particularly… _trying_ customer.”  Pragmatism had never been so sexy.  And if Bucky could just stop imagining his manager naked that would be a real improvement.

“Yeah and he threatened me with a disciplinary.”  Just thinking of the conversation set Bucky’s teeth on edge.  One day he was going to wipe that smug fucking grin right off Sitwell’s face.  Steve nodded and motioned for Bucky to sit down.

“Yes, he did mention that to me as well.”  He sat down and his hands carding together in front of him.

“There’s a surprise.”  Bucky muttered.

“He sometimes takes his job a little too seriously.”  Steve said, and Bucky bit back a smirk.  “I reminded him that customers can sometimes be unreasonable and that the safety of our staff was ultimately more important than trying to keep every customer happy.”  The brunet blinked several times, before he could summon a response.  “There are some customers I’d be happy to never see again.”

“So, I’m not getting a disciplinary?”  Bucky slumped down into a chair.

“Not unless you want one?”  Bucky shook his head.  (Although, a brief flash of Steve disciplining him flashed through his mind in vivid detail).  “Anyway, I actually called you here because I wanted to ask you a favour.”  Generally, when a Manager requested assistance from the service desk it usually involved fixing some sort of technical issue.  Naturally, Bucky offered his services.

“Sure, Boss man, what do you want me to fix?”  Steve fixed him with an eyebrow arched with so much disappointment that Natasha would have been proud of.  “Right, sorry, I forgot, you used to do my job.  So, what can I do with you – for you?”  Steve resolutely didn’t comment on the slip, and Bucky was extremely grateful.

“Natasha mentioned that you had some pretty good suggestions about improvements that could be made to the general processes within the store.  And I was wondering whether you’d care to create a list.  I mean, uh, I’m not saying that everything’s going to change overnight, but I think it’s important to listen to the staff members who really know what it’s like on the shop floor.  And I know the store has been through some… _struggles_ , _” Steve_ chose his words carefully.  (Bucky knew for a _fact_ that the store mole had made several more calls to group security and that further investigations would be taking place.)  “And I’m going to do my best to offer more stability.”

“Which means?”  Steve’s eyebrows knitted together, and the internal struggle was visible on his face.

“I believe the store would benefit from a redistribution of staff, and reorganization of staff members.”  Bucky raised an eyebrow and leaned forward on the table, his interest piqued.   _Please GOD, fire Sitwell._

“That sounds like a threat,” he admitted and Steve shook his head.

“I’m not _that_ guy.  I’d like to think that was obvious.”  Bucky nodded in concession.  “But the store could do with some improvements, and I want this to be a good place to work.  I want people to actually want to be here,” Bucky rolled his eyes.  He’d heard that speech multiple times.  Every year the staff became less and less trained, and every year they swore they had the best staff ever.

“It’s gonna take a lot more than a few promises to fix this place.”  Steve leaned back in his chair and regarded Bucky with such slow consideration that it made the brunet’s skin twitch.

“Natasha said you’d say that.”  Bucky didn’t know what to say to that, so he merely shrugged.

“People are lazy.”  He said bitterly.  He had lost count of the amount of times he had been left to tidy up his whole department and serve the three remaining customers still in store while the sales staff pissed around with each other.

“I don’t mind if people are standing around, as long as the store looks good and customers are being served.  I don’t want to see some people running around doing three different things while other members of staff are checking Facebook.”  Clint, Bucky thought, was probably going to want to hump Steve’s leg when he relayed that part of their conversation.  (In truth, he was _really_ starting to wonder whether Steve could read his mind.)

“I think that’s easier said than done.”  He argued.  Managers, Bucky knew from experience, promised swift positive change but rarely delivered on it.

“I think you’ve gotta start from the top and work your way down.”  That was a curious way of looking at things, and it certainly called into question the security of Jasper and Justin’s jobs.

“I think you’re overly optimistic.”  He said with a resigned smile.

“I think you’re afraid to admit you think things can change.”  Steve smiled in return, and let out a half laugh.  “I can do this all day.”  He leaned further back in his chair and almost smirked.  Bucky had a brief flash of what it would be like to pull the blond across his desk by his time and kiss him till they were drunk on breathlessness.

“I’m so fucked,” the brunet said aloud.

“Not quite the reaction I was expecting.”  The blond admitted, the smirk still in place, and Bucky shook his head.  There was an odd note to Steve’s voice, and in another situation, he might have taken it as flirting.

“I need to get back to the desk,” he stated, his voice taking on an odd quaver and Steve nodded once in acquiescence.  Bucky got up and left, wondering the whole way to the desk whether there were likely to be any improvements.


	6. Chapter 6

“I mean, I try to be a people person, but people really annoy me.”  It was Wednesday afternoon and Darcy was in the middle of an extremely _passionate_ rant about a customer.  She affected a man’s voice.  “I’m sorry Miss; I’d just feel more comfortable talking to a man.”  She rolled her eyes, and Sam laughed slightly.  “I mean, does this look like a Doctor’s office?  Am I going to be testing his prostrate?  I don’t think so.”  A young man, who had been approaching the desk, steered quickly towards the till when he heard that.  “He’s just here to buy a fucking tablet.  You know I know more about that shit than anyone else in the store.”  (It was true; Darcy had a flare for portable electronics.)  “So, I was like, ‘Dude, I can help you,’ and he just looks at me like I’m stupid because I have breasts.  I mean, admittedly they’re fantastic breasts and tend to render other people momentarily stupid,” Clint and Sam nodded in agreement, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t sell him an iPad.”

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.  I hate people.”  Bucky confirmed.

“Yeah, well, now he’s stuck with Hammeroid.”  She grinned, and there was a wave of laughter through the group.  Justin Hammer was generally considered to be one of the most incompetent members of staff.  He had once been an assistant manager at one of the smaller stores in California, but had moved back East after college, and now had a jumped-up sense of importance (and a much heftier pay check than the rest of them), despite only being a team leader.  And the truly hilarious thing about the situation was that he actually knew less than most of the general sales assistants – even the ones who had only been working in the store since for a couple of weeks.

“It’s wrong how much joy I get from passing customers like that over it him.”  Sam agreed.  “I just wait for them to ask to speak to someone else,” he rolled his eyes, racism, as it turned out, was far more prevalent than was advertised, “and then I hand them straight over to Hammer.”

“It’s a public service really,” Clint said, and they all laughed.  “Idiocy deserves idiocy.  If people want to speak to someone competent then they should have the decency to act like members of civilized society.”

“I know, right?”  Darcy threw her hands in the air, and stomped back off to her department.

********

Maria Hill was already in the back offices by the time Bucky arrived on Friday morning - after his _glorious_ and hard-earned day off.  She was Fury’s second in command, and had a reputation of being a bit of a hard ass, though Bucky had only ever seen her as competent.  Peirce and Rumlow had both hated her, and every time she made an appearance they had seen fit to spew vile insults about her for the remainder of the day.  Personally, Bucky thought she spoke a lot of sense, but then again, she had described the returns desk as being the best run department in the store – and since they were largely without management that was sort-of ironic.  (And a massive ego boost to Sam, Clint and Bucky who took on the role of keeping the younger staff members in order.)

Sitwell was in charge of opening the store, with Bucky on returns, Jim Morita on televisions, Darcy on small electrical appliances and Dugan moaning that he was stuck on domestic appliances until Beth came in.  They were running on a skeleton staff until the second shift came in but that was usual for the end of the week so no one was concerned.  Except Sitwell, that was.  Although Bucky was certain his nervousness sprang from the fear of what Hill might uncover, and he couldn’t justify watching her every move until reinforcements arrived.

Natasha had _promised_ Bucky that there would be more scandal, and more job losses, and for his part, Bucky wouldn’t be sad if Sitwell was thrown out on his ass.   _You’re not that lucky,_ Bucky thought morosely.  Sitwell had been the singular focus of his rage since the incident with the vacuum, and while he liked to think that he was fairly easy going, he could definitely hold a grudge.  (As proven by the fact that Ethan had pissed him off on his first week by implying that the desk only existed to tidy up after sales assistants and Bucky hadn’t spoken to him since.  That was almost two years ago.)

When Clint walked in – a full ten minutes late, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence – Bucky excused himself to get a cup of coffee.  (They might have taken more than their fair share of breaks but they were fair among themselves.  And hey, while everyone else got the joy of selling things, they had to deal with all the assholes so there had to be some rewards - even if they weren’t authorized.)

On his way to the break room he walked past the cash office, where Maria was studiously looking at their write off reports – which probably didn’t bode well for Sitwell.  The brunette looked up at the sound of his footsteps and offered him a small smile of acknowledgement.  The last time group security had been called in (was it only a month ago?) she had been the one conducting the interviews, and he had seen her enough to be on somewhat friendly terms with her.  (Although, for Bucky’s part he suspected a lot of the affection on his side of their relationship stemmed from the fact that she had been the one to _finally_ rid them of Pierce and Rumlow.)

“I thought you were Steve,” she said, looking over her shoulder to where he was waiting in the doorway.

“He was on the late shift last night, didn’t get out until after ten.”  Should he be alarmed that he knew that when he hadn’t even been at work?  “He won’t be in for a while yet – one of the perks of being the manager I guess.”  He tried to joke, but she didn’t seem all that impressed.  She looked at him curiously for a moment before she responded.

“Some of us don’t have that luxury.”  Bucky guessed that he had said the wrong thing, and immediately began contemplating ways he could help his favourite manager.  As Pierce had found out, it didn’t pay to get on Hill’s bad side.  “He knew that I wanted to see him today.  We have a lot to discuss.”  Bucky felt his mouth go dry.  That sounded awfully ominous.

“I’m sure he’ll be here in…” Maria’s face softened briefly, and Bucky was suddenly aware that he wasn’t alone.  He turned to the side, startled to find Steve grinning at him. “Jesus, fuck man!”  For such a big guy, he was light on his feet – hell, he could give Nat a run for her money and that girl was like ninja sneaky.

“You know what they say?  Speak of the devil…”  Steve almost laughed, and even Maria cracked a smile, her face softening significantly.  (Apparently, Steve really did have that effect on everyone because that was the most emotion he’d ever seen her show.)  Bucky huffed slightly.  “If it’s any consolation I haven’t been here long.  Nice to see you’ve got my back though,” he smiled, clapping Bucky on the back with one of his meaty hands.

“Fuck you, Rogers.”  Bucky responded jovially as he continued on his way to get a drink.   _Yeah, you’ve got real problems Barnes,_ he thought to himself.  He barely even knew the guy, and he already felt compelled to defend him.

“Do you always let your staff speak to you like that?”  He heard Maria ask he walked into the staffroom.

“Just the ones who’ve earned that right.”  Steve replied affably and Bucky couldn’t help the slight smirk that toyed at his lips.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanksgiving.

Bucky remembered when he used to love Thanksgiving – even though those times were so long ago they seemed almost like a dream.  Back when his parents were alive and he was still living at home, Thanksgiving meant too much food and the warm feeling of being part of a family.  Now, all the day bought was the sense that another year had passed and his life was just as disappointing as it had ever been.  Well that, and the impending sense of dread that Black Friday was upon him once more, and at his age he couldn’t face that with a hangover, so drinking the loneliness away was not a good idea.

Though he was thankful for his friends - especially Natasha and Clint - it felt like an imposition to spend the holidays with them - even when Natasha offered.  And her offer was, really, more of an insistence.  He had really meant to refuse their kind offer, but then the red-head had busted out her serious eye, and, in fear for his life, he had agreed to join them.  Over the last three Thanksgivings they had found their own tradition of ordering copious amounts of take-out and watching _awful_ films.

However, the holiday only marked the start of terrible things.  Thanksgiving was the point that marked the descent into peak season – the time of year where people got increasingly irate at retail staff.  Thanksgiving was the one day of calm before hell week and the proceeding Christmas sales.

Black Friday was the _single_ worst day of Bucky’s working year.

It was the day that struck fear into the hearts of _all_ retail employees.  There was absolutely _nothing_ good to be said about that day. Customers had less than zero patience.  And they completely failed to understand the concept of limited stock, and certainly didn’t appreciate that if they turned up at four in the afternoon, the chances were all the main deals would be out of stock.  Not just that, it seemed like all the good spirit and thankfulness, was completely used up the day before.  Bucky had seen two women fighting over the last ice cream maker the previous year.  There had been a heavy dusting of frost, the damn machine had only five dollars off, and they were old enough to know better.  But it seemed like Black Friday sent everyone a little bit crazier.  (Clint swore that one year a customer had camped outside the doors with a computer issue from Thanksgiving morning until they opened the doors on Black Friday.  And really, Bucky thought his life was depressing.)

“Don’t worry, I’ve bought the lubricant.”  Clint beamed as he walked onto the desk ten minutes before the start of his shift – it was the one day of the year Clint was early.  They were all resigned to the fact that they were getting fucked over.  Not only did they have to deal with returns (and what kind of stupid store still did returns on a mega sale day), but they would also be processing sales, and dealing with myriad computer setups as well as assisting with all the stock orders.

“I got myself all stretched out and ready last night,” Bucky quipped back.  It was a familiar banter between them.

“Oh good, you can take the first hit, I still need a bit more prepping.”  Clint grinned back, and Sam merely looked rather alarmed at the whole situation.  At the front of the store Sitwell was panicking about where to send the staff, and how they were going to keep track of the stock of the large ticket items, rather than just dealing with it.   _Typical Sitwell_ , Bucky thought.  He was still clinging to the hope that when Maria returned in January for their six week review – because apparently the store had been red flagged as a concern – that she would get rid of him for good.

Steve appeared out of nowhere, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a big grin on his face.  Sam, Bucky and Clint all looked at him with disgust upon their faces.  They had thought he was one of them, but the smile he wore told them a different story.  No one who had to deal with the _swarm_ of awaiting customers outside could possibly be that happy.  It was unnatural.

“Good morning, I hope you’ve had a nice holiday.”  They all nodded – the polite response.  “I know it’s gonna be busy today, but if you need anything then just give me a call and I’ll get someone on it straight away.”

“What if I just need to take a piss and I’m worried about my queue starting a riot if I try to go?”  Clint challenged, and Bucky could almost see Natasha appear next to him and smack him round the head.  Steve, for his part, didn’t seem at all fazed.

“Then you can call for me and I’ll come and take over your till,” the blond replied with an easy smile and Clint grinned.

“Shouldn’t have said that boss man, he’ll be calling you every five minutes now.”  Bucky threw in; as he made sure the stationary supply was fully stocked.

“He’ll be too busy serving customers to mess around.”  Clint looked doubtful.  “I will _personally_ make sure of it,” Steve teased with a wink.

“Aww, man.”  Clint sighed, causing both Sam and Bucky to grin.


	8. Chapter 8

Bucky stormed into the laptop storage room to find Darcy sat under one of the shelves up the far corner of the room with her head in her hands.

“I fuckin’ hate people.”  She muttered without looking up.  “I mean, just, where are they all coming from?  I don’t think I’ve ever seen _so_ many people in one place.  Why can’t they all just fuck off and go home?”  She looked genuinely upset by the fact that they were busy.

“You are aware this is Black Friday?  The clue is kind of in the name?  It’s the day when retail stores make bank.”  She eyed him suspiciously.

“Who are you and what’ve you done with Bucky?”  She said looking up at him from under her bangs.

“I guess I’ve just worked here for so long that I’m resigned to the fact that I’m going to get violated every Black Friday.”

“Yeah, well, if Sitwell does one more fucking announcement for me to return to smart tech when I’m already on smart tech serving two customers then he’s going to need a proctologist to remove the microphone from where I stick it.”  She huffed, and held out a hand for Bucky to give her a hand up.  And really, what was it about the women he chose to make friends with in this store?  They were certainly no shrinking violets.

“You could always help on the desk.”  Darcy shot him an unimpressed look.

“Oh Barnes, you always know how to cheer me up.”  She said with a flick of her hair as she pulled a laptop off the shelf.  “Well, I best get back.  I’ve been looking for this laptop for twenty minutes, I should probably get back out there.”  Bucky laughed.

“Customer an asshole?”  Bucky questioned.  He had been trying to practice restraint when dealing with annoying customers and had taken to ‘finding a manager’ whenever he wanted to make them wait.  Of course, ‘finding a manager’ was really Bucky going for a coffee since there was absolutely no point actually asking a manager.  (Well, apart for Steve, but he was also vaguely trying to avoid the blond in an attempt to calm his libido.)

“The biggest.”

“You’re learning, my young padawan.”

“Hush your mouth, you know I’ve been practicing this passive aggressive shit since my first week.”  She laughed, and then headed out of the door to go and find her customer.

Bucky took his time finding the Macbook he needed for an exchange before heading back to the desk.  He arrived back at the desk in time to hear a customer kicking off with Clint.

“I’m going to tweet Obadiah Stane because the store is _very_ unprofessional and something needs to be done about it.”  Bucky rolled his eyes.  _Tweet away sweetheart,_ Bucky thought to himself.

“Okay.  Sign here.”  Clint replied, completely void of all emotion, and indicated to the dotted line at the bottom of the receipt.

Bucky returned to his own customer and quickly totalled the exchange before returning to the work bench at the back of the desk to check on a virus removal he was trying to finish.  The store was so busy that the next customer had walked over to his till without being called – which was annoying in and of itself so he intended to take a few extra minutes checking the various jobs they had on the back.

“We’ve already done over seven hundred stock reserves and it’s not even the end of the day.  I mean, who the fuck reserves batteries on Black Friday and then complains when we haven’t had a chance to pick them up?”  Clint muttered as he pretended to press buttons on a PC which was already restarting.

“Oh, that’s what that was about.”

“Yup.”  Clint replied, popping the ‘p’. 

“I see your day is going about as well as mine.”  Bucky muttered, turning to eye the woman who was giving him the stink eye from his till.

“All the crazies are out today.  I had a customer ask if we could price match Best Buy’s TV offer.  Apparently, there was nearly a riot over their two hundred dollar fifty inch TV.  I wouldn’t mind, but the guy bought a top of the range Sony and wanted it for the same price as whatever piece of shit that Best Buy were trying to pass off as a TV.  And _then_ , he looked at me like I was an idiot because I said no.  It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.”  The shorter man shook his head.  “Oh, and apparently we’re on to hit half a million today and I’m earning like a hundred bucks so I’m feeling _great.”_

“Yeah, well I’m going to go and be yelled at by that _delightful_ looking woman at my till.”  Bucky muttered.  He walked back to the woman and plastered on his best customer service smile – hey, he could be professional when the situation called for it.  “Are you being served?”  He asked, knowing full well she wasn’t.  He found that the best way to avoid being yelled at was to wrong foot the customer from the very start.

“No.”  The woman looked confused.

“Oh sorry, I thought you were because you were at the desk.  Sorry about that, what can I do to help you.”  The customer blinked several times.  _Mission accomplished_ , he thought.

“I, uh, just need to return this router.  I bought the wrong one so I just need to return it.  I haven’t opened it, but, uh, I saw the other one online and it was cheaper.”  She handed him a receipt _and_ a sealed product.  Bucky felt a little badly about the way he had treated the woman, since she’d just managed to restore his faith in people.

“Oh, absolutely, we can get that sorted right away.”  He said, politely, processing the return as quickly as possible.

***************

The returns desk had been heaving since the moment the doors had opened, just like it had been for the rest of the week.  Now that the sales were over, people had realized what they had managed to buy a load of shit, and seemed intent on returning it with as much fuss as possible.  (Seriously, how _exactly_ was it Clint’s problem that some guy had bought his ninety-year-old mother a Chromecast when she didn’t even have a smart phone?)  Bucky was at the end of his tether.  If so much as _one_ more person ignored the queuing system and tried to catch his attention he was _really_ going to flip his shit.  They genuinely had _three_ signs that indicated where people should queue, and had temporarily cordoned off all but one entrance to the department and people _still_ tried to walk around the queue, or duck under the barriers to ask ‘a quick question’.  Bucky hated everyone.

The whole team, Bucky, Clint, Sam, Alicia, Penny and Raj (the part time staff) were all on full shifts and they’d _still_ had a massive queue all day.  As such, they had enlisted the help of Darcy, Nat, Jim and even Steve during the course of the day.  Nevertheless, the department was completely trashed and the queue showed no sign of abating.  Bucky _really_ fucking hated the holidays.

The doors were shut promptly at eight, (for once Sitwell had done his job right), but that didn’t mean that they were done serving.  Darcy was standing her own in an argument with a man who had decided to wait until three days after his warranty had expired to return a laptop, and couldn’t understand why that wouldn’t be happening.  Sam was a one-man return machine, putting through simple returns faster than the customers knew what to do with themselves.  Clint was running between the five computer setups that the sales floor had _kindly_ sold in the last hour, while Natasha was arranging the redelivery of a cooker.  (And Bucky couldn’t help but think she had been lucky the customer didn’t use the old fallback “you ruined Thanksgiving”.  Apparently, some people weren’t total assholes.  Although, the lack of reaction might have been due to the fact the red-head was legitimately terrifying.)

By the time, Bucky finally finished with his customer, the majority of the sales staff had already left, and the department looked like a small nuclear weapon had been deployed.  He momentarily considered pulling on his coat and walking out with the rest of the staff, but he was not selfish and he couldn’t leave the rest of the guys in the trenches.  (And _Jesus_ , had he, _really,_ just compared his job to a World War?  Sometimes, he was an overdramatic dick.)

The customer services desk might have been the worst place to work in the store, but out of all the departments they worked the best as a team.  Penny and Alicia had served their last customers and set to work on putting the stock away, but neither of them were going to be able to put away the pile of large screen televisions; the three media stands; the five white goods or even the two microwaves.  Usually, Bucky would have gotten stuck straight in, and set about putting away the larger items, but instead his attention was drawn to their store manager, who was leaning over the counter talking kindly to a small old lady.

“It’s just that my grandbabies were going to video call me from England, and I just couldn’t get my computer to load.”  She said, and the sadness in her tone even tugged at Bucky’s heartstrings.  (He generally hated people, but he had a bit of a soft spot of the elderly.)

“I’m sorry to hear that ma’am, I’m sure I can get you sorted.”  Steve smiled and the grandmother’s eyes sparkled slightly.  (Yes, Steve _definitely_ had that effect on everyone.)  The blond typed quickly on the computer, accessing the run commands, and spotting the problem with Skype.  “Ah, it looks like there was a problem with the latest update.”  He tapped a few more keys and booted the screen back in safe mode and began to uninstall skype.  “I’m going to take skype off…”

“Oh but my Ellen will be really disappointed, she wants to try to talk to me again today.”  She sounded so sad that it even managed to warm Bucky’s cold heart.  Steve merely smiled, reaching out and touching the old lady’s hand.

“I’m going to put the program back on and then we’ll load it up and make sure that everything is working.”   He rebooted the computer and it loaded into the main screen, he tapped a few more buttons and a web browser opened in which Skype began downloading.

“Pinch me,” Clint muttered, drawing Bucky from his thoughts, as he proffered his arm for pinching.

“Huh?”  Bucky replied, loquacious as ever.

“A manager who actually knows what he’s doing.”  Clint smirked, as he turned his attention back to his own laptop issues again.  Bucky spared him a look, but the laptops had decreased from five to three so he seemed to have it under control.  On the other side of the department, Steve continued to talk to the old lady, unaware of the growing crowd of staff watching him.

“We can give them a call if you like - show you that everything is working.”  Steve was saying to the customer.

“I don’t want to be any trouble…” she said.

“It’s no trouble at all, Ma’am.”

“He’s like a fucking saint,” Darcy commented, appearing beside the growing group of people.  (And where the hell did Penny and Natasha come from?)  “Like the really sexy, I’d-like-to-see-naked kind of saint.”  Bucky barked out a laugh.

“Ahh, such fond memories of Sunday School,” Clint added, and Nat pinched his arm.  “Ouch, that hurt.”  Clint grumbled rubbing his injured arm and causing Bucky and Darcy to smirk.

“Seriously though, I would _love_ to ride his flag pole.”  Darcy said, and the rest of the group laughed.

“Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo.”  Clint added, and took a step back from Natasha in an over-exaggeratedly scared manner.

“Test the suspension.”  Natasha threw in, raising an eyebrow, and daring Clint to challenge her, and then added.  “I bet it would be a _really_ good ride.”  Clint and Natasha exchanged a scarily vicious hi-five without even looking at each other.

“He could clean my chimney any day.”  Darcy added with a grin on her face.

“I’d beta test him for a nickel.”  Penny said quietly, and Darcy waved her hands in the air in excitement.

“I’m up for a little gland-to-gland combat.”  The brunette said and giggled slightly, and Clint looked at Natasha and mouthed ‘good one.’

“Just call him Harry cos I’d ride his broomstick any day.”  Penny added, a small smile tugging on her lips.  That was probably the longest sentence Bucky had ever heard her speak.  It figured that Steve bought that level of inappropriateness out of her.

“We could play hide the German sausage.”  Bucky added, and almost everyone pulled a disgusted face.  “Yeah, cos that’s the worst thing that’s been said today.”  He said with a sigh, and decided it was probably best he finished tidying up the department.

“Way to lower the tone, dude.”  Clint said sarcastically with a shake of his head.  Bucky merely gave him the finger and picked up the nearest microwave to take it for restocking.


	9. Chapter 9

“But it’s Christmas.”  Clint said, his voice vaguely pleading.  Despite being told on no less than three occasions that there was no way Bucky would be going out on a Saturday night when he didn’t finish work until nine and had to be back in work for ten.  And _fuck_ , wasn’t that just a testament to the fact that his youth was well and truly over.

“It’s December the second.”  Bucky muttered.  He had been hearing about Christmas since September and it was already beginning to wear thin.  He had no particular positive feelings towards the holidays, owing to the fact he’d spent most of them alone.  Even when he’d had a foster home for the festivities he had never left like he belonged.  Sure, his foster parents tried, but Christmas was a family occasion and on more than one occasion he had received unwelcome glances from extended family members.  Or maybe that was just in his imagination?  It had been so long than he couldn’t be certain.

“But you can call it my Christmas present.”  His friend suggested.  “Nat’s been going on about it for days, and she’s _not_ going to be happy if you don’t come.  She’s not going to take no for an answer.  And… I didn’t want to tell you this…” he gave an exaggerated sniff.  “… but she threatened to beat me if I couldn’t get you to come.”  Bucky rolled his eyes and Clint sighed.  “C’mon dude, it’s not as though you have anything better to do?”  The brunet thought about disagreeing – he _had_ planned to spend the whole night making love to his duvet.  However, he doubted whether Clint (or more specifically Natasha) would consider that a valid excuse.  (And really, it was a sad state of affairs that Bucky _genuinely_ considered a good night’s sleep to be a better use of his time.)  “And _don’t_ give me some bullshit story about having to visit some friend who just happens to be visiting.  You’ve got the rest of the week to sort your shit out, and in all seriousness, you know that Nat isn’t going to take no for an answer.”  Bucky sighed.  There was every possibility he would manage to convince Clint he wouldn’t be the best company after spending all day at work, but Natasha was a different matter.

“If I say I come will you shut up and let me get on with all of these issues?”  He motioned to the ever-increasing pile of customer complaints that needed to be dealt with sooner rather than later.

“You’ve got _real_ issues.”  Clint retorted instantly.

“Well, it’s a good job I’m happy to share them then,” Bucky replied, handing Clint several pages of complaint letters.  “God, I hate this job,” he added, as he dialled a number to begin dealing with the customer issues.

“Which is _exactly_ why you need to come out with us this weekend.”  Natasha appeared from their back room.  (And _really_ , Bucky had been on the desk solidly for the last hour, and he hadn’t seen her walk past.  How the _hell_ did she do that?)

“Already got it under control, babe.”  Clint grinned, and the red-head shot him a distinctly unimpressed look.  “I mean, uh, Natasha.  Because you’re a grown woman and not someone who needs to be infantilized.”  He replied.  Clearly, Natasha had him _very_ well trained.  “Anyway, this dickhead has already agreed that he’s coming.  And now he’s agreed he’s definitely not going to get out of it.”  He added, as though this might appease his girlfriend.

Fortunately, it worked.  And the red-head’s face softened to a smile.

“Yeah, I’m coming Nat.  I’m ready to give my old legs a dancing test drive.”  Natasha rolled her eyes at that.

“You’re not old,” she replied in a clipped manner.  It was an old argument between them, but one Bucky felt compelled to repeat.  His life was fucking depressing; he might as well face the fact that he was about ten minutes away from being decrepit.

“Tell that to the kids we see out this weekend.”  He replied, just as the company he was on hold to answered the phone.  “Yes hello, this is Bucky I’m calling from T. S. Electricals on behalf of a customer and I was hoping you could help me with an issue I’ve got…”


	10. Chapter 10

Saturday night rolled around all too quickly for Bucky’s liking, and though he had managed to swap to a mid-shift he didn’t _still_ get out of the building until nearly eight.  He was sorely tempted to call and cancel, but he knew that Natasha wouldn’t be impressed.  Hell, she would probably turn up on his doorstep and drag him out anyway.  And she’d succeed; despite only being just over five-foot-tall, she knew an awful lot of ways to hurt people.  (Having experienced her thumb trick – which, felt like she’d broken his whole hand - he really didn’t want to piss her off.)

He showered and changed quickly, pulling on a pair of well-fitted charcoal trousers and a tight white shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up to expose his forearms and accentuate his biceps.  He ran some product through his hair and splashed himself with the only decent cologne he owed.  Looking in the mirror he was struck by how good he looked – he forgot sometimes that he was fairly attractive.  His hair had that just-got-outta-bed look that seemed to be popular among young people, and his stubble framed his jaw well.  Smiling to himself, he pulled on his beaten leather jacket and headed out to meet his friends.

As it turned out, the subway was full of delinquent youths in the late evening hours, and he found himself judging their choices of outfits.  Girls – women he supposed but they looked so young – tottered around on five inch heels with skirts that barely covered their nether regions.   _Jesus, I really am old,_ he thought to himself.

He arrived at Clint and Natasha’s place early, - Clint’s name might have been the only one on the lease, but Natasha spent most of her time there -, but when he knocked the door was answered by Natasha who was impeccably dressed.  Bucky’s mouth went dry, and he felt the slight heat rise across his face.  She was wearing a red dress which accentuated her curves.  It was strapless and just the hint of her ample bosom was visible above the neck line, and the peplum highlighted her small waist.  The dress itself fell to her knees and drew Bucky’s eyes to the deliciously high heels she wore.  She coughed and he returned his gaze her face.  Her red hair was pulled back in an intricate manner causing her smoked eyes to pop.  He swallowed.

And he’d thought he looked good.

“Wow.”  Was only thing he could think to say.

“That’s the correct response, Barnes.”  She laughed, beckoning him in.  “You’re a little early.”  The brunet opened his mouth to apologize but she waved him off.  “Clint is just finishing up and we’re good to go.  Can I get you a drink?”  Natasha Romanov was nothing if not a juxtaposition of opposites.  Lady-like and classy when she needed to act like a proper hostess, but a terrifying bitch when she needed to get him to join their little soiree.

“After the day I’ve had, I think I deserve two.”  Natasha laughed.  “Sitwell is a prick.”

“No, no, no.  No work talk.  Tonight, we drink, celebrate and pretend that money is no object.”  She insisted.

“At least until the credit card bill rolls up.”  Clint added, as he walked out of his bedroom fixing his tie.  Natasha handed them both a plastic Champagne flute of, what Bucky assumed (correctly), was the kind of cheap Champagne that pushed the limit of their meagre pay packets.  “To getting fucked up with friends.”  The Russian coughed, and her boyfriend at least had the decency to look abashed.

“To great nights with even better people.”  Bucky said, and Natasha smiled.

“Absolutely.”  They all took a drink.

It was the beginning of a very long evening.

********

The Empire Bar was absolutely jumping with energy and youthful exuberance.  Had Bucky imbibed a few less drinks he might have remembered his resolute hatred of people, but as it was he was content to dance along with everyone else.  The drinks may have been twenty plus dollars a go but Natasha seemed to have a ready supply of them, and neither Clint nor Bucky saw fit to question where she was getting them.  As a result, they were all more than slightly lightly toasted.

Bucky was enjoying the amount of female attention he was receiving, and was _definitely_ appreciative of some of the other men in the room.  He couldn’t help but think only the most attractive of New York’s population had made it past the bouncers.  (But that _could_ have been the alcohol talking.)  Still, that didn’t stop him from enjoying the view.  In fact, the view had been further improved by the vision of loveliness that was the man currently leaning against a nearby bar in a blue suit.

With his quarry spotted, he tapped Clint on the shoulder and pointed to the man and gave him the thumbs up, before he headed over to the man.  If things went the way he hoped they would, he wouldn’t be seeing his friend again that evening.

“What’s a hot guy like you being in the place…” the blond turned around and Bucky realized his mistake.  “Oh fuck.”  He reached over the bar and stole the guy’s drink, downing it in one.  “I’m sorry, man.”  He said, looking up into the bluest eyes he had ever seen.  “Blue is _really_ your colour.”  The tall blond laughed slightly, doing a little turn and giving Bucky time to appreciate his attire.  His bespoke suit bought out the colour in his eyes, and accentuated the breadth of his shoulders and size of his arms.  And even if Bucky hadn’t been half in love with him before he’d seen that suit, he would have been after he’d seen it.

“Do you want a drink,” Bucky motioned to his now empty glass and Steve smiled, “ _another_ drink I mean.”

“Well if you’re buying, I’m definitely drinking.”  He grinned in what he hoped was a sexy manner, (although he had a _strong_ suspicion he ended up looking constipated).  Steve raised two fingers to the bartender and was immediately served two more drinks.  He handed over several notes and turned away from the bar.

“Surprised to see you here,” Steve admitted, and then he realized his mistake.  “Not that you don’t belong here, it’s just – uh – you,” he smiled softly and dragged his hand through his hair, “I’m just surprised to see you here because – you know - you’re always saying that you hate people.  And there’s a lot of people around here.”  Had Bucky been _slightly_ soberer, he probably would have noticed just how awkward the blond was, as it was he just brushed it off.

“Yeah, I come here all the time,” he lied.  “I’m here almost every weekend.”  Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.  “I mean the bartenders practically know me by name.”  The bartender serving Steve didn’t not even acknowledge him.

“I never come here.”  Steve replied.  “Never really go out actually, uh, but Tony’s around and he insists that I join the land of the living occasionally.  There’s only so many times I can blow him off before he starts to take it personally and I’d really rather stay on his good side.”  Bucky nodded, not really paying attention to anything the blond was saying.  He was too focused on the blond’s lips and the deep rumble of his voice over the music to pay any attention to what was being said.

“Well, Nat just loves this place, and it’s best not to say no to her.”  Bucky struggled to find an excuse for his earlier lie.  Steve knew enough to know that Natasha was a force to be reckoned with, and if Bucky didn’t want to recant his earlier exaggeration then that was his prerogative.  The blond smiled knowingly, and Bucky wondered whether he’d been found out, but before he could find out a scream erupted through the crowd.  “What the hell’s going on?”  Steve merely rolled his eyes.

“I guess that means Tony’s decided to make an appearance on the dance floor.  For someone who demands a VIP section because he can’t enjoy himself with everyone fawning over him, he sure does nothing to lay low.”  The screams increased and Steve had to yell even louder for Bucky to make out what he was saying.

“Ladies, no need to put down your glasses just yet, your eyes are fine, and Tony Stark is in the building.”  The DJ called over the heavy bass of the music, and Steve let out a huff.  Bucky finally put two and two together.

“You’re here with Tony Stark?”  Steve shrugged.  “ _The_ Tony Stark?”  Bucky was suddenly aware that his mouth was open and he probably looked about as sexy as a frog trying to catch a fly.

“Not you as well?  No wonder he has such an ego.”  Steve shook his head.

“But he’s like - ” Bucky flailed his arms around a little, “- a technological God.”  There really weren’t words for how much of a genius the man was as far as Bucky was concerned.  At eighteen he had released the first Stark phone and on now on its seventh generation it was better than ever.  The previous year he had released the first generation Starkbook and had revolutionized the computing world.  (Bucky had personally sold ten on the day of release, and the build quality coupled with the coherent operating system and twenty-four-hour customer service line meant that he’d only dealt with one return in the entire time they were released).  “Clint is going to _die_.  If you think his mancrush on you is bad you should see him talk about Stark.”

Steve shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Then it’s probably best they don’t meet.  I’ve known Tony a long time and he already thinks the whole world is in love with him; I don’t want to encourage him.”  He said reasonably.

“To be honest, anyone who has ever used one of his products probably is in love with him.”  He was about to explain further – fearing that Stark’s genius might have slipped past the blond, when they were joined by the man in question.

“Ahh Steve, my good man, there you are.”  The brunet greeted, as all three of them were pushed against the bar by the throng of rabid women who had followed Stark over from the VIP section, despite the three security guards who hand accompanied him.  “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost,” he said as he reached across to Bucky and pulled back a glass of whiskey.

“Well, if I had, I could always just follow the hysteria back to you.”  Steve yelled in response over the disordered chant of Tony’s name.  A particularly feisty blond managed to slip past the security and practically plastered herself against Steve, who looked vaguely terrified as he twisted to face his two brunet companions and tried to brush off the girl’s attention.

“Now, now Steve, it’s not nice to be jealous.  I’m sure you get enough action of your own.”  Tony responded and Bucky smiled into his drink as the girl drunkenly played with Steve’s ear.  The blond did not look impressed.   One of the security guards, apparently realizing that girl had slipped past their human shield, removed said girl from Steve’s side.  “Anyone would think you didn’t want to get laid.”  Bucky nearly choked on the sip of his drink at that, and Steve merely rolled his eyes.  “Unless…” he gestured to Bucky, who swallowed the remainder of his drink, “who’s the new guy?”

“This is Bucky, he works in my store.”  Steve answered, effectively ignoring Tony’s insinuation.

“Hello, Bucky who works in his store.”  Tony parroted back and Steve nudged him with his elbow.

“Don’t be a dick.”  Tony raised an eyebrow.  “Don’t be so much of a dick.”  He corrected and Stark smiled.

“Anyway, I just came to let you know we’re moving out.  So, finish your drinks and let’s get going.”  He grinned.  “Bring your new boy toy.”  He added as he wondered back to the VIP lounge taking the wave of activity with him.

“You’d think he would have just sent one of his people… or, you know, dropped me a text.”  Steve sighed, his eye following the trail of carnage left in Tony’s wake.  “You coming?”  Steve said in resignation.  Bucky blinked several times, trying to process that invitation.

“S’not really fair on Nat and Clint.”  He eventually responded.  It was for the best, he decided, to prevent this awkward crush from going any further than it already had.

“They can come too.”  Steve offered with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s advisable.”  Steve observed him for a few moments, before nodding once in agreement.  Bucky had been referring to how much of a fanboy Clint was likely to be, but Steve seemed to be agreeing about something else.  Bucky resolutely didn’t allow himself to imagine what they might be.

“I guess, uh, I’ll see you at work.”  Steve said, downing his drink.

“I guess so.”  Bucky nodded, wondering whether it was the alcohol or the situation which had his head buzzing as Steve disappeared into the crowd.

******

“So, I found out why Steve’s the youngest manager in the company.”  Bucky muttered, catching up with Clint in a recently vacated booth.  Apparently, he had taken advantage of the mass migration of crowd after Stark’s departure.

“Because he’s actually a decent human being.”  Clint offered, taking a drink and elbowing Bucky in the side.  The brunet rolled his eyes.

“He’s practically Tony Stark’s best friend.  Which is totally why we got the exclusive on the latest Stark pad.”

“Dude, in case you didn’t know, he owns the company.  Of _course_ , we got the exclusive on the Starkpad.”  Clint said incredulously.

“But we got stock the day before Manhattan.”  Which was true.  Bucky had never seen so many tourists and business people in the store.  Clint merely shrugged though.

“I really feel like I’m missing something here.”  Clint admitted.  “Last I saw you were off to go and speak to some guy at the bar.  And then the world went crazy because apparently, this place is _so_ happening that Stark made an appearance – which of course I missed because I was taking a piss because God hates me and doesn’t want me to be happy.”  His friend went off at a tangent, that Bucky needed to put an end to.

“Have you seen your girlfriend?”

“Good point.”  Clint said with a grin, and his eyes softened and he was reminded of Natasha.

“Anyway, the hot blond was Steve.”  Bucky pulled a face and Clint offered a smirk in response.  “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Oh, come on.  You’ve got to admit it’s pretty funny that you’ve spent the last two months telling everyone that you don’t find him even remotely attractive.  Even though everyone with eyes can see that you’re mentally undressing him.  Then, you manage to spot him across a crowded room and….” He wigged his eyebrows and Bucky retaliated with a death stare.  “It’s like a bad rom com.”

“I hate you.”  Bucky muttered and Clint laughed.

“So where has loverboy gone?”  He enquired, suggestively rubbing his hand up and down his beer bottle.

“Off to some VIP party with Stark.  Stark actually invited us, but uh, I didn’t think it was appropriate.”  Clint slammed his drink down on the table and eyeballed his friend.

“So, let me get this straight.  You met Tony Stark,” Bucky nodded.  “He invited us _all_ out with him,” Bucky nodded again.  “And you fucking turned him down?”  The brunet bit his lip.  “You are aware how crazy that is, right?”  Bucky considered that for a moment, it hadn’t really occurred to him at the time.  He was pretty sure he was too busy being momentarily annoyed by the fact that Steve got everything because he happened to know the biggest name in electronics to realise what a good offered he’d just turned down.  “I can’t believe I could be partying with Stark and you turned him down.”

“But he only got his job because he knows Stark.  I can’t… I don’t want to look at him the same way.”

“You are aware that makes no sense, right?”  Bucky shrugged.  “No, it makes literally no sense.  Why would Stark want someone he liked to suffer working in retail?  He’d just give him a cushy job in one of his eighteen million offices.”  Clint crossed his arms and Bucky opened his mouth to respond.  “How much have you had to drink?”  His friend’s tone was accusatory, and _really_ couldn’t Clint see why he was annoyed?

“Not that much.”  He’d had a lot more than he intended to, but that didn’t distract him from the fact that he felt Clint should be as annoyed as he was by the latest development.  “I’m not _that_ drunk.  I just, he gives this impression of being one of us, and really he’s just as much of a suck up as everyone else in charge.”

“You have real issues, you know that right?”  Bucky sighed, but quirked his eyebrow in a silent admission.  “Like, _really_ serious issues.”  Bucky sighed again.  “It’s like you’re determined to sabotage your life… and mine while you’re at it.”  Clint shook his head in disbelief.  “Can’t believe you turned down the chance to party with Stark.”

“I need another drink.”  He said by way of response, and Clint grinned.

“You and me both brother.”


	11. Chapter 11

“I’m sorry, but it would be a repair with Microsoft.”  Bucky could already tell that the customer was not going to be at all impressed at the prospect of being without his Xbox, but procedure was procedure and the guy had been a dick from the moment he walked through the door.

“I can’t fucking believe that man.  It’s still in its warranty.”

“Which is exactly why we will be able to offer you a repair.”  Bucky smiled, hoping to defuse the situation.

“Fuck you, you’ve just ruined my Christmas.”  There was a soft squeak from Sam, who was reseating a hard drive in a laptop.  Bucky resisted the urge to sigh in frustration.  On the upside, at least he’d got his first square marked off on their yearly game of Christmas Bingo.  (It had been started by Clint three years previously and consisted of individual bingo board filled with various sayings that they all heard over the festive period.  Such as: “you’ve ruined my Christmas”; “that’s not my problem it’s yours”; “what do you mean I need a receipt”; “get me the manager”; and “what do you mean virus’s aren’t covered under my warranty.”)

“Sir,” he said calmly, “it’s the fourth of December.”  Clint snorted from somewhere behind him, and immediately set about taking the faulty returns to the back before he could cause any more damage.

“It’s absolutely disgusting.”  The man huffed.  “Get me the manager.”   _There goes number two on the list._

“Certainly, sir.”  Bucky smiled politely and followed Clint off the desk to go and get a manager.  He had learned, from painful experience, that there was little point in asking Sitwell, who tended to give the customer exactly what he wanted, which meant that either Steve, or Coulson – the new guy, who had been bought it while Sitwell was seconded to the Jersey store – were his only options.  Since he really didn’t want to talk to Steve he figured he’d try the new guy.

“You know,” Clint said, “I don’t think we should be allowed to get two squares from the same customer.”  Bucky turned his eyes skyward.

“You’re just saying that because I’m two down and we only started yesterday.”  Clint nodded in concession of the point as they walked over

“Well I’ve still got plenty of time to antagonize some customers.  I’ll catch up in no time.”  He said with a grin.  “Besides, you’ve still got to get someone to put in a written complaint about you, and we _all_ know if anyone is going to achieve that it’s gonna be me.”  Clint puffed out his chest in thinly veiled pride.

“I find it somewhat alarming how cheerful you are about that.”

“You’ve gotta take pleasure where you can my friend.”  Bucky rolled his eyes as he punched in the code to get into the back offices.  If nothing else the amusing conversation with Bucky had distracted him from his earlier annoyance with his customer.  Every time he had an asshole of a customer he swore that he wouldn’t let them get to him, but the truth was that every heated conversation set his pulse racing, and angered him more than he ever let on.

Naturally, since he was feeling vaguely zen about the whole asshole of a customer issue, the only manager in the back was Steve.  While they weren’t exactly on bad terms they hadn’t spoken since they’d run into each other at The Empire and Bucky really didn’t want to have to ask him to do something - even if it was his job.  He didn’t like to feel like he owed the blond anything.

“Hi, uh, sorry to interrupt.”  He said, hopping from one foot to another.  (And since _when_ had he become so socially inept.)

“It’s fine Bucky.”  Steve pulled off his reading glasses as looked up at the brunet.  “What can I do for you?”  And _Christ_ , Bucky had Superman fantasies about those glasses.

“There’s a customer who wants to see a manager.  He’s had his Xbox since last Christmas Eve and now it’s gone faulty and he wants a new one.  I’ve said it has to go off for repair but he just started swearing.  But hey, apparently, I’ve personally ruined his Christmas, so there’s a positive.”  He let out a slew of words but Steve nodded along, and his earnest smile only managed to make Bucky feel like an asshole for not exchanging the unit.  “And if it was in good condition I probably wouldn’t be here, but the unit is scratched to fuck and I can’t rule out some sort of damage.”  Steve laughed.

“You don’t need to justify yourself.  If you said no then you had your reasons.  If the guy is being a dick then he doesn’t deserve an exchange.”  Bucky smiled.  A lot of people took Steve for a polite and gentile sort-of man, and for the most part he was, but his reactions to customers told Bucky that he had definitely suffered during his time on the shop floor.

“I forgot you’d worked in returns.”  Steve laughed as he stood up.

“Do I play good cop or bad cop?”

“I don’t think anyone would believe you’re anything other than a good guy.”

The customer left the store secure in the knowledge that Bucky was entitled to send his Xbox in for repair, and that, realistically, the customer could be expected to deal with the issue himself.  He was also told plainly that damage would not be covered by the warranty.  And Bucky was left with a grin on his face for the rest of the day


	12. Chapter 12

Christmas crept up on Bucky all too quickly.  It seemed to every year despite his constant promises to himself that he would be completely ready for it by the time Black Friday rolled around.  Not that there was anything he really needed to prepare – apart from a well-stocked liquor cabinet.

There was something incredibly depressing about the holidays when all he had to look forward to was work, work, work and more work… oh, and meals for one.  As a small mercy, at least the lack of time he spent in his apartment drastically reduced his heating bill.  (Really, that was just as well because he _really_ couldn’t afford another expense on what he earned.)

Bucky had read, numerous times, that statistically Christmastime had the highest rates of suicide.  (It was discussed every year and _every_ year people on the news always seemed shocked when they discussed it.)   But really, what with all the family aimed TV movies, happy, happy, Christmas music, and sickeningly sweet ‘you’re special’ adverts everywhere it was a wonder that more people didn’t throw themselves in front of oncoming traffic.  While Bucky was nowhere near that level of misery, he had his own moments of crushing despair when he looked at his life.  That morning he had woken up at seven, opened his four Christmas cards and contemplated starting his specially purchased bottle of Jack a little bit early.

As it was, he had unscrewed the bottle and took one good whiff of the brown liquor within, and come to his senses rather quickly.  And that was how he found himself jogging through Prospect Park in the freezing cold.  Jogging had always given him the time he needed to get his head straight.  There was something incredibly therapeutic about plugging in earphones and losing yourself in the rhythm of your footsteps beating on the sidewalk.

The ground was a solid crunch beneath his feet, and he shut his eyes to savour the cold air blasting against his face.  So, naturally, he tripped over some unseen detritus and straight into some hitherto unseen wall.  Needless to say, he felt pretty fucking stupid.

“Son of a fucking bitch.”  He swore as he fell.

“Nice to see you too.”  The wall spoke.  And, recognizing the voice, Bucky refused to open his eyes for several long seconds.  It was just his fucking luck to walk into his manager on the one day of the year when he should be free of all traces of work. (Christmas Dinner with Nat and Clint excluded – they were practically his family).  “Do you often run around with your eyes closed?”  Two strong hands righted him and Bucky’s teeth ground together, Steve seemed to sense his frustration because he added, “I mean, I’m not judging or anything.”  He paused for a brief second.  “Actually, you know what, I am judging.”  Steve laughed slightly, and dragged a large hand through his hair.

“I – uh – I was savouring the feeling of freedom.”  Bucky bit back, overly aware of their close quarters.

“Couldn’t you have done that with your eyes open?”  Steve suggested, and Bucky shook his head half in a daze.  One of Steve’s hands was still at his waist and standing so close he could see just how perfectly blue the blond’s eyes were.  They, much like their owner, were flawless.  Judging by the expression on Steve’s face he had been staring for quite a while, but despite that realization, he still couldn’t find anything to say.

It occurred to him that he should have claimed to be drunk – people drank on Christmas morning, right?  And maybe he half-wished he’d started on that bottle of Jack, because he couldn’t help but think it would have been a hell of a lot less awkward if he’d been lightly toasted.

“I was hoping to work off my dinner before I ate it.”  He said, failing to answer the question, and taking a step back away from the blond, whose arm fell limply at his side.

“…” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Christmas dinner, I’m working it off before I eat it.”  He explained.

“Oh right,” Steve dragged his hand through his hair once more, and looked slightly flustered.  “That’s, uh, I don’t really go in for the whole family Christmas – my foster mum died my first year of college.”

“Shit, you have had more parents than some people have had hot dinners.”  Bucky replied without thinking.  “I’m sorry man,” he said by way of an apology, but Steve merely smiled.

“Just lucky that way I guess.”  He shrugged, and Bucky searched his face for any sign of annoyance, and found none.  He silently thanked God for small mercies and took the opportunity to redirect the conversation.

“Surely Stark could sort out some turkey?”  Steve smiled, faintly amused, in a way that practically screamed ‘you’re not letting that go, are you?’  And really, Bucky still couldn't believe that someone who hung around with Tony Fucking Stark could be so nonchalant about the acquaintance.  

“I’m sure he would, but he’s in Malibu for the holidays.”  The blond shrugged.  “I mean, he’d probably send a jet,” he said with a smirk, “but I’m not a massive fan of flying.”  Bucky raised an eyebrow.  “Bad experience in college.  A fifth of vodka, pole dancing and turbulence do _not_ mix, and I’m pretty sure Stark hasn’t matured enough that a the possibility of a reoccurrence wouldn’t be an issue.”

“I feel like I need an explanation.”  Bucky said with a small smile.  Steve was an enigma, wrapped inside a mystery, wrapped in a delicious outer shell of Adonis.

“Then you need to talk to my therapist.”  Bucky laughed.

“So what _are_ your plans?  Got a girl waiting to cook you dinner and take you to bed?”  It wasn’t until the moment the question left his mouth that the brunet admitted to himself that his interest in Steve definitely extended past the platonic.

“Just a quiet day in the house, maybe get take-out and catch up on some reading.  Like I said, I don’t go in for the whole Christmas thing.”  It was a statement, he wasn’t looking for sympathy.  In Bucky’s opinion, that made the whole situation even more tragic.

“Your middle name isn’t Grinch, is it?”  He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Maybe,” Steve grinned.  “But I don’t hate people who do enjoy Christmas; I just don’t see the point in making the effort when I’ve got no one special in my life.”

“That might be the most depressing thing I’ve heard all year.”  Steve laughed aloud at that.  The world was a funny thing.  Bucky spent a considerable amount of time hating his life and bemoaning the fact that everyone seemed to have a better life than him.  But here was Steve, the man he’d initially been jealous of, and he didn’t even have someone to spend the holidays with.

Actually, the world wasn’t funny.  The world fucking sucked.

“You can’t spend Christmas alone.”  He stated, a plan already forming in his mind.

“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.  It’s really not a big deal, I’m not religious, and I’ve got no children.  It’s just another day.”  Steve shrugged, the muscles of his shoulders starting an avalanche that swelled under his jumper.

Bucky swallowed.

“That’s – that’s fucking tragic.”  The blond laughed again, although he didn’t sound at all bitter.  In fact, Bucky had to admit that he sounded surprisingly okay about his lonely life.  “You should come to Nat’s.”  He said before he either lost the courage to do so, or Steve managed to change the subject.

Steve considered him in silence for the longest moment – and really, Nat would have been proud of the lack of emotion the blond managed to display as he considered the offer.

“Would that be appropriate?”  Steve asked, echoing Bucky’s earlier sentiments at The Empire, one eyebrow raised.   _Fuck_ , Bucky conceded to himself, _I’m **definitely** in trouble._

“I’m sure we’ll survive.  It’s Christmas – and _trust_ me I need the good Karma.”  He offered Steve a smile.  “Three two five Lincoln street.  Apartment three c.  Any time before two would be good.”  Without giving the blond any time to answer, he jogged away.

His racing pulse had nothing to do with exercise.

(If Bucky had to guess it's cause was about three quarters lust and one quarter fear at inviting someone to Natasha's Christmas dinner).


	13. Chapter 13

Natasha – as it turned out – was surprisingly approving of Bucky’s decision to invite Steve to dinner.  Hell, she even expressed a wish that she’d invited him first.  (Although Bucky was fairly sure that was only because she knew him better than almost anyone and was looking forward to analysing his _every_ move).

They were waiting on Steve’s arrival – not that Bucky was at all nervous about that fact, and he _certainly_ didn’t feel like his stomach was about to eat itself.  He was still cursing his own inability to keep his mouth shut.  He could have enjoyed a carefree dinner with Clint and Natasha.  They could all have gotten slightly tipsy and bemoaned the fact that they had work the next day.  It was the one part of the festive period he had been truly looking forward to, and now it had been ruined by his own inability to see exactly what was bad for him.

Inviting Steve had all seemed well and good when it had just been the two of them.  Before he realized that Clint was never going to let his little slip go, and Natasha would be scrutinizing their every interaction, ready to pick it apart with Bucky later.  And that wasn’t even considering how Steve might react.  Even though they were more than civil at work, they had never spent any great amount of time together outside of work, and the more he thought about it the more he regretted his overzealous invitation.

“I’m so sorry guys,” he apologized for the tenth time.  “I didn’t mean to invite him, it just kind-of slipped out, and he really did look pathetic.”  He lied, and Natasha rolled her eyes, in a manner that meant she didn’t believe him for one second.   _Fucking perfect_ , he thought.

“For the last time, its fine.”  Natasha half-snapped – which was always enough to make Bucky stop what he was doing.  “Besides, we owe him for the drinks at The Empire.”She added nonchalantly, and obviously got the reaction she was looking for when both Bucky and Clint snapped around to look at her expectantly.  “What?”  She shrugged.  “No way could we have afforded to have _that_ good of a night on what we earn.  I saw Steve and he said someone might as well have fun on Stark’s dime, so we did.”  Clint raised his eyebrows and nodded in an impressed fashion.

“And it’s that kind of resourcefulness that makes me love you.”  Clint said proudly, but Bucky just took a long drink of whatever God awful drink Clint had concocted.  There was definitely Vodka and Kahlua but whatever else was in there was masked by some weird green stuff.  Bucky resolutely downed it anyway.  He was going to need a head start on the merriment if he was going to spend the rest of the day with the sexiest man he knew who also happened to be his manager.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door.  Natasha disappeared for a few moments, only to reappear with a rather dishevelled looking Steve.

“Sorry, I got a little lost, and then it started to snow, and then there was an accident, and it was all a bit of a fuck up really.”  Clint choked on his drink and Bucky slapped him hard.  “I didn’t know what to bring,” Steve added, “so I just…” he handed Clint a bag.

“Oh, you can _definitely_ come again.”  The host exclaimed as he withdrew three bottles of Moet.

 

*****

 

Sometime after the second bottle of Champagne and before a second helping of pumpkin pie, while they were all slouched on Clint’s haphazard couch, - and _seriously_ , was the damn thing from the eighties? – Bucky had to admit that Steve made pretty good company.  Not only did he bring excellent quality beverages, but he also insisted on helping Natasha with the food and clear up, which meant that neither Bucky or Clint felt obligated to.  And even though he polished off more food than any of the rest of them, he still managed to make space for half a yule log.

So much so, that by the end of the meal they were all applauding his ability to eat.

“Where the hell do you put it all?”  Bucky asked, patting Steve’s stomach through the thick material of his rather garish Christmas Jumper.  (And if his hands lingered a little too long then that was his Christmas present to himself.)  The blond laughed, his eyes crinkling – apparently despite his ability to pack away food he was a light weight when it came to the drink.

“I’m a growing boy,” he winked at Bucky.

“So many jokes.”  Clint muttered to Natasha, who was perched on his lap watching the scene unfold in a way that would have made Bucky uncomfortable if he’d been slightly soberer.  Steve merely shrugged and replied.

“Never had any complaints in that department.”  Bucky choked on his drink, much to everyone else’s amusement.  “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”  Steve looked a little ashamed.

“I can’t imagine you get any complaints in any area,” Bucky muttered as Clint spoke over him.

“You are _literally_ my new favourite,” Clint said, his hand stroking a careful circle around Natasha’s thigh.  “Sorry, Buck.”  He added at his friend’s look of indignation, and Steve grinned in an infectious manner.

“Hey, you guys should come to Stark’s for New Year.”  Clint opened his mouth and promptly shut it again, waving his hand and bringing it to his mouth in silence.  (For years people had asked Bucky how they could get Clint to shut up - apparently an invite to a Stark party was it).

“We’d love to,” Natasha answered politely, as Clint made an almost obscene noise.  (And Bucky _swore_ he saw tears in the older man’s eyes).  At which point, all eyes turned to Bucky.

“Are you sure that – uh – Mister Stark won’t mind.”  Clint shot him a death glare and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘if he ruins this for me,” through gritted teeth into Nat’s hair.  Nat, for her part, looked as though she was seriously considering suffocating Bucky with her thighs.  (And maybe Bucky’d had one too many fantasies about that.)

“Tony will probably be too drunk to notice.”

“So, it’s a deal then?”  Clint asked, leaning forward in his excitement and almost toppling Nat off his lap.  Fortunately, she had the reflexes of a cat, but that didn’t stop her digging her nails into Clint’s shoulder.  He seemed to understand his mistake because he shot her an apologetic look and hauled them both back to a more comfortable position.

“I guess so.”  Bucky shrugged, taking a long drink of his vodka and coke.


	14. Chapter 14

“It’s not what I ordered,” snapped an extremely agitated customer as she thrust a bag to Clint.  Bucky fought the urge to smile.  Though it was their own fault for drinking so much when they knew they had work the next day, he couldn’t help but find it vaguely amusing to watch the look of abhorrence that crossed Clint’s tired features.

“You purchased the item online in October.”  He stated, his voice already tinged with irritation.

“What’s that got to do with it?”  She yelled so loudly that Sharon looked over from her position on the tills.  Shit was about to go down, and Bucky really wished he could shit back and enjoy the fireworks.  Unfortunately, they weren't exactly quiet and he had returned stock to sort through as well as tills cash up and money to be taken to the safe.

“Well, our Christmas returns policy started at the beginning of November and clearly states that the product should be in its original packaging.”  Clint smiled, putting the receipt back in the bag and pushing it back towards her.

“What’s that got to do with it?”  By this point, Darcy and Dum Dum had moved to stand by the telescopes which were situated in front of the returns desk, so they could better see the ensuing argument.  And gee, subtly was _not_ one of their strengths.

“Well, you have a reasonable amount of time to notice a mistake.  And I’m afraid you have been in possession of the goods for over two months.  If you’d like to contact our online customer services team, they might be able to offer you a resolution, but as a store we would be unable to help you in this instance.”  Clint, Bucky decided, was a master of aggravating people.  He spoke the company line like a robot, with very little motion.

“You ruined my daughter’s Christmas.”  She spat, gesturing to her grown up daughter, who looked equally apoplectic.

“With respect, you purchased the product online.  I cannot be responsible for what you ordered.”  Bucky bit his cheek trying to stifle his laughter, almost completely giving up on the illusion that he was doing any work.

“I want a refund.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to offer you that.”  Clint replied, his voice had a sickly sweet tinge to it.

“Well I’m not leaving until you do what I want.”  She forced the camera back towards Clint, and Bucky watched the muscle in his friend’s jaw clench as he pushed it back at her once more.

“Would you like me to get you a seat?”  From his position at the till next to Clint, (cashing up the till for the second time that morning in an effort to hide his interest in the exchange), Bucky couldn’t contain his smirk.  The haughty daughter shot him an appalled glare, but really, given the circumstances that was not enough to force him to stop.

“WHAT?!”  The customer looked as though she was about to burst a blood vessel, although, in truth, Bucky was surprised it had taken her so long to start shouting.

“I said,” he emphasized the point, “can I get you a seat?”  The customer opened her mouth a couple of times, and Sam would claim later that he was certain he saw smoke coming out of her ears.

“You were being facetious!”  She yelled, waving her hand in his face.

“I was being polite.”  Clint countered.  “You said you weren’t moving until you got what you wanted.  I’ve already explained to you why that won’t be happening.  I thought you might appreciate a seat since you’ve said you won’t be moving.”  The customer opened her mouth a couple of times and both Sam (who had dropped all pretence of sorting the returns) and Bucky would swear later that they saw a flash of red in her eyes.  (Sam stopped short of claiming she was a crossroads demon in disguise).

“Get me a manager.”  Clint opened his mouth to respond but then the customer _exploded._ “I SAID GET ME THE FUCKING MANAGER!”

Naturally, Sitwell was found the situation less amusing than any of Clint’s colleagues and the customer left with a smug smile and a camera that cost $200 more than she had originally paid.  Just because their manager didn’t have enough fucking backbone to back up his colleagues when they were blatantly in the right.

“Fucking pathetic.”  Clint muttered, as he returned from processing the sale.  “He took way too much pleasure in putting me down.”  He growled.  “Fucking customers.”  He said as the stomped off into their repairs room. 

******

Three days later, Bucky experienced his own _joyous_ interaction with a pissed off customer.

“So, I bought this last year,” the customer began, and Bucky could already sense that things weren’t going to be simple from the tone in their voice.  

“Yeah,” Bucky said, offering them what he liked to call his ‘work-smile’.  (Read: the smile that showed too many teeth and made his face hurt).

“And it doesn’t work.”  Now, considering the customer had bought the item back, it hadn’t taken much of an intuitive leap to work out that it was probably faulty.  He took the receipt off the customer and sighed.

“I’m sorry about that, but you bought it over a year ago?”  He tried for something approaching concern but he wasn’t entirely sure he managed it, because he could just _tell_ from the customer’s face that he was going to get into an argument.

“Yes, but it’s never worked.”  The older man said, as though that _magically_ changed the situation.

“Okay…” Bucky considered his response carefully, not wanting to face the same fate as Clint, “so why didn’t you bring it in sooner?”

“I didn’t have time.”  What did the customer actually expect?   _Oh, yes, sir, I didn’t realize that you kept something that wasn’t working for over a **fucking** year, of **course** I’ll exchange that for you._  Fucking people.  Bucky hated them all.

“You had over a year,” he tried to say carefully.

“Well first my cat died, and then my car got stolen and…”

“Yeah,” Bucky cut the customer off.  “We’re not exchanging that.”  There was a time and place for nicety and having worked 45 hours in three days was decidedly not it.

“But I haven’t had a year’s use out of it.”  Bucky blinked at that, trying to find the words that weren’t outright offensive.

“Define a year’s use.”  The man looked at him blankly for a long moment.  “Yeah, that's what I thought.  The warranty starts from the date of receipt.”  There was just no point wasting time with some people, better to rip off the bandage and get it over and done with.  “If you’d like to contact our head office they will be able to assist you with an out of warranty repair.

“Where can I make a complaint?”  Bucky actually rolled his eyes at that. But thankfully, the customer didn't notice.

“You can contact our head office for that too.”  He said, and handed the man a receipt wallet with the customer services email address highlighted before walking away.  He found Sam out back in their repair room; removing a hard drive from the oldest PC he’d ever seen.  (It had the biggest dust bunny Bucky had ever encountered wrapped around the fan and the image made him shiver, slightly).

“Is it just me…” he started.

“No, everyone is completely fucking insane today.”  Sam replied.  The dark-skinned man was the voice of reason for the entire department, and if he had acknowledged how bad of a day it was then Bucky knew that it wasn’t just in his imagination.

“Oh good.”  Bucky responded, before taking a drink of his red bull.  Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised.  There was nothing worse than customers in the week after Christmas.  For some reason, all the holiday spirit always seemed to have completely evaporated and people were just douche bags.  In the years, he had worked in retail he had seen, crying fits, fist fights, shouting matching and even blackmail tactics used by customers to get their own way.  It was really kind of pathetic – and no doubt at least partly why he was a devout hater of people.

Nevertheless, they were busy, so he allowed himself three minutes to calm himself (and for the customer to leave) before he returned back to work.


	15. Chapter 15

The week passed in a similar fashion for everyone.  Bucky could barely encounter another member of staff without glimpsing the look of defeat in their eyes.  Darcy constantly looked as though she was three seconds away from a breakdown, while Gabe had taken to muttering to himself as he marched through the store to collect customer’s purchases.  Even Peggy, who was known for her constant professionalism (although Bucky knew her well enough to know that she was just better at hiding her emotions than most people), was stalking around the store looking distinctly unimpressed.

Nevertheless, they had all managed to survive until the New Year.

Or at least, they nearly had.  The store had emptied out, with only a few stragglers remaining, and most of the staff already camped at the front of the store waiting for the clock to hit six.  Both Bucky and Clint were feeling pretty damned lucky to have survived – even if they were not impressed that they were both working the close shift on the one night of the year when they both had plans.  Still, when had Sitwell’s rotas ever favoured them?  It wasn’t as though they were his favourites so they never received any sort of preferential treatment.  There were certain staff members who never worked a late shift and seemed to have every holiday off, and didn’t that just aggravate Bucky every time he thought about it?

So, it shouldn’t have been a total surprise, when, out of nowhere, a family appeared at the desk holding a printer and looking expectant.  Bucky glanced over to where Sitwell was waiting to leave with the rest of the sales staff, with a smirk on his face.

“How can I help you?”  Bucky smiled, the customer had already selected a replacement item, and he had no desire to refuse them an exchange (even if the item should be a repair).

“This comes up and says the ink cartridges in the box aren’t genuine.”   _Score_ , Bucky thought, knowing that meant it was a simple exchange as if the first inks didn’t work it must be relatively new.

“Oh right, that’s no good,” he replied in a sickly-sweet voice.  “Let’s get that swapped over for you then.”  He grinned, but the customer did not look impressed.

“I want you to set it up for me.”  Bucky blinked several times.  It was almost as though the father didn’t realize it was New Year’s Eve and everyone had plans.

“Well, if I set it up here on our Wi-Fi it will make it harder to set up at home,” he said with a smile as his fingers moved on their own accord performing the exchange.  It wasn’t as though he was lying, if anyone came in and asked for a printer to be set up he would tell them the same.  It was much easier to run the set-up disc and connect to their in-house Wi-Fi than it was to manually change the Wi-Fi connection.

“I want to make sure that the inks are working.”  The customer said in a condescending tone, as though Bucky was stupid.  He gritted his teeth in a small smile.

“Certainly, but if you have trouble setting it up in your home we will be unable to offer you another exchange.”  Clint appeared out of nowhere and moved the box with a thud onto the other side of their work bench.  He set about opening the box in the most destructive manner possible and quickly pulled out the contents and began to set up the unit as Bucky finished the transaction.  “All done, sir.”  Clint said, indicating that the inks were in place and the small screen indicated that they had been calibrated.

“Can’t you put some paper in?”

“No,” Clint said abruptly.

“Why not?”

“Because you came in five minutes before closing time on New Year’s Eve and want a free set-up.”  He said curtly, boxing up the customer’s printer and handing it back to them with a smile.

The customer did _not_ look impressed.  He did, however, leave, which was the important thing as far as either Bucky or Clint were concerned.  And since he was the last customer in the store, they managed to leave the store on time, much to their fellow staff member’s relief.

*******

Impressively, less than two hours later, they had somehow managed to go home, get ready, meet back up _and_ arrive at Stark Tower - which probably broke some sort of record given the sheer volume of people heading into the city to see the ball drop.  Natasha had spent the entire subway journey awkwardly between the two of them but considering the smell of the guy whose armpit was pressed up against Bucky’s face she got off lucky.  (And really, Bucky had never been so glad he wasn’t heading in the same direction as everyone else because he honestly didn’t think his sanity would cope with being jostled around by smelly New Yorkers anymore.)

At the entrance to the tower they were faced with a burly security guard, who seemed to be expecting them because when they entered he merely nodded in acknowledgement and motioned to the elevator which was situated across the lobby.

“Jesus Christ.”  Clint swore as he looked around the reception area.  He took a couple of shocked steps before he stopped walking completely.  Next to him, Bucky stood still.  If the living quarters were half as decadent as the lobby then it was going to be a _seriously_ uncomfortable night – the welcome desk looked like it cost more than Bucky’s entire apartment building.  “I’ve never felt so… inadequate before,” Clint echoed his friend’s thoughts as Natasha pushed past the two of them and headed straight towards the elevator.  Clint sighed.  “It’s okay for her, she’s used to this.  She’s only roughing it with us degenerates while she finishes her PHD – sorry Buck, I forgot…” he trailed off.  Yes, Bucky had almost forgotten his plan to leave as well.

“Are you implying your relationship with Nat is only temporary?”  Bucky queried with a smirk, changing the subject.  If he let himself get too caught up in his own failures this early the night was going to be unbearable.  Across the lobby, the red-head hit the call button.

“I’m saying that I’m smart enough to get a ring on her finger before she realizes how much better she can do.”  Clint replied with an affectionate smile in his girlfriend’s direction.

“I wouldn’t let her hear you talking like that if I were you,” he replied as they made their way over to Natasha.  Clint had somewhat of an inferiority complex when it came to dating Natasha, though most of the time he masked it with his biting wit.  It was one of the few things that truly angered her.

“Well, if he didn’t want me to hear it then he shouldn’t say it within spitting distance of me.”  Natasha interjected without turning around.  Clint opened his mouth to reply, but the lift doors opened and she stepped inside.  “And he knows he’s the only one I want, so there will be no _trapping_ me.”  She added, as she turned around and looked at him with soft eyes.  Clint promptly shut his mouth.

“You know, I think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said, suddenly rather cocky, and Bucky felt oddly like he had intruded on a private moment.

“Don’t get used to it,” she smiled coolly, but reached out to thread her fingers through his anyway.  Next to them, Bucky smiled, despite the crippling need to leave them alone which swelled through his body.

Despite the many levels they had to cover, the elevator reached its destination in next to no time and as the doors pinged open they were faced with what was evidently Stark’s personal quarters.  Dumbly, Bucky wondered how Natasha had known where to go, but it didn’t seem appropriate to mention it now they were in company.

“Ah, finally, now we can get this party started.”  A voice came from somewhere behind one of the large couches and Tony appeared wearing loose fitting jeans and what appeared to be an AC/DC t-shirt.  Bucky and Clint exchanged looks.  The apartment was without a doubt the most opulent place any of them had ever been, and yet Bucky felt overdressed.

“Well, fuck, do _not_ tell me I could have been wearing converse?”  Clint said.  Natasha rolled her eyes and headed over to talk to the other woman in the room – with whom she already seemed familiar.  At least that explained why she knew what floor to get off, (and why they had arrived directly in Stark's apartment), but didn’t explain why she told them it was a suit and tie affair.

“It’s not like there’s a dress code.”  Tony answered, but next to him the tall red-head who was talking to Natasha was wearing a long blue dress and that alone indicated that perhaps Tony was the only one who had failed to dress up.

“Clint, Bucky and Natasha meet Tony and Pepper.”  Steve appeared from somewhere behind them, “but it seems some of you already know each other.”  He gestured toward Natasha, and who must be Pepper, who were talking away between themselves as though they had known each other for years.

“Tony Stark, living legend.”  Clint said with a grin.

“I like this one already,” the brunet said from his position on the sofa.  And Steve rolled his eyes, and shot Bucky a look that suggested he didn’t think Tony needed any more ego inflation.  “Can I get you a drink?”  He said, jumping over the couch, and wrapping his arm around Clint to guide him to the bar – no doubt to hear some more about how amazing he was.

The result, however, was that Steve and Bucky were once again left alone.  Bucky had thought he looked pretty good but Steve… Steve looked more attractive than Bucky had ever seen him before.  Hell, he put GQ models to shame.  His designer jeans hung low on his slim hips and his dark blue sweater was straining to contain his _very_ impressive torso.   _Jesus,_ Bucky thought, he’d known Steve was fairly built, you’d have to be blind not to see it, but he figured the blond was built in the normal way – like Clint or himself – not in the perfect-specimen-of-manliness way.  He swallowed.   _Calm down, Barnes,_ he chanted to himself.  It would do him absolutely no good let himself be drawn into a petty crush.  He needed to focus on something other than the blond in front of him.

Unfortunately, his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own and seemed insistent on identifying whether they could count Steve’s abdominals through his shirt.  And Christ, Bucky was no linguist but he was certain he could write a sonnet about the curve of Steve’s biceps – and that wouldn’t even begin to cover the beauty of his shoulder-to-waist ratio, which was bordering on the ridiculous.

His mouth felt dry and his pants overly tight.

“So, uh,” he began, “that shirt is…” he waved his hand up and down and blinked several times, “… just, yeah, it’s a really good colour on you.  It brings out the colour of your eyes and shit.”  (Which it totally did, but Bucky hadn’t even got as far as his face.)  A red hue rose across the blond’s cheeks at the compliment and he seemed somewhat flustered.

“It was the first thing I grabbed.  Tony, uh, said it was pretty casual, but uh, I guess maybe… well you, uh,” he gestured to Bucky’s slacks, shirt and tie with a waistcoat combination.

“Yeah, well Natasha said it was black tie,” he fidgeted uncomfortably and loosened his tie.  “But, uh, I’ve got to say I’m glad this isn’t going to be some pretentious wine-tasting evening.”  He was glad to find a topic to distract him from just how ridiculously handsome Steve looked.

“No, that’s really not Tony’s style.”  Steve nodded to where Tony was handing Clint an obscenely large class of what was undoubtedly expensive scotch.  “Dancing girls and hookers on the other hand…” Steve gave a small smirk.  Bucky raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Really?  I kind-of figured Pepper was…” Steve waved his hand, dismissively.

“I don’t even want to try and describe what kind of messed up relationship they have.”  Steve said with a shrug - a shrug which made Bucky’s stomach twist in unadulterated desire.

“Even so, I thought this was going to be some big party.”  He said weakly, swallowing down the shrug of lust flowing through his veins.

“That would be a cliché.”  Tony said, appearing next to them.  “Pleasure to see you again Bucky.”  He held out a glass to Bucky, who accepted wordlessly.

It was going to be a really long night.


	16. Chapter 16

New Year turned out to be a pretty relaxed evening and even though there were only seven of them in total, none of them had any inclination of ending the celebrations at midnight.  Happy, the door man from the lobby, arrived shortly before the ball dropped and shared a kiss with Pepper at midnight, leaving Stark to kiss Steve (and _Christ_ that was a hell of a lot hotter than it should have been), and Bucky to clumsily hold his drink while Natasha and Clint attempted to drag him into some awkward three-way kiss.  It was a good job Bucky didn't have  _too_ much of a complex, otherwise he may just have started crying at that moment.

(As a side note: if someone had told him he would be ringing in his twenty ninth year on the planet as the awkward third wheel in the most bizarrely happy couple he’d ever known he would have asked to be put down then and there.  But that, he guessed, was his life these days.  And it was probably mostly his own fault.  After all, it wasn’t like he was hideous, but he supposed that to get a date he was going to have to go out and meet some people – and he just _really_ just couldn’t be bothered.  Life seemed insistent on beating an ever-growing hatred of people into him, and he didn’t want to offer it a golden opportunity to finish any possible hope he had in the human race with some horrific date.)

The evening had quickly descended into a homely affair and this suited Bucky just fine.  The only negative about the whole thing was that he was stuck wearing a monkey suit when he might as well have worn jeans and converse.  But that was a minor niggle and he’d rather be seated on a sofa surrounded by decent people than facing the hoards in Times Square.  However, there was something incredibly disheartening about seeing Tony Stark –billionaire, playboy, philanthropist – sprawled on the floor eating microwave popcorn straight out of the bag, while they half-watched some shitty horror movie on his eighty-inch flat screen.

Life, Bucky realized, not for the first time, was sometimes rather bizarre.

“Don’t think so hard, it looks painful.”  Steve’s voice cut through Bucky’s thoughts and he was jolted back to reality with a bump.  With Stark sprawled on the floor, Steve had sat next to him, giving Pepper, Happy, Clint and Nat plenty of room to continue their New Year’s celebrations

“Uh?”  He replied.  Just once, he would have liked to look like a normal human being around the blond, but apparently, the mere sound of Steve’s voice was enough to drive Bucky to stupidity.  “Yeah, uh,” he tried again.   _Nice one Barnes, way to make yourself look even more stupid._  Next to him Steve merely let out a soft laugh.  “It’s late alright, I’m tired.  Some of us had work today.”  Steve merely raised an eyebrow.  “Alright, some of us had work today and have work tomorrow.”  Steve levelled him with a look again.  “I – yeah, I’ve got nothing.”

“I’d tell you to call in sick, but if I have to suffer so do you.”  Steve’s voice had gained a more distinct Brooklyn tone as he grew more tired, and Bucky was buying _everything_ that accent was selling.  (He smirked at the thought, and that only served to reiterate how sleep-drunk he was himself.)

“Oh, you’re gonna make me come in are you.”  He said, and he could hear the flirtation in his own voice.

“I’ll escort you there myself.  Don’t forget, I have your personal records, I know where you live.”  Steve answered with a small smirk.  Was Steve flirting back?  Was this what he usually did?  Was that even flirting?  It had been so long that Bucky wasn’t entirely sure.  What the hell did he do now?  Several thousand panicked thoughts ran through Bucky’s head.

“That’s abuse of power.”  Bucky replied, his voice sounding oddly strained to his own ears.  “I could report you,” he said teasingly.  And God, what the _hell_ was he doing?

“Yeah, but I hear your manager’s a real hard ass.”

“But I think he’s got a soft spot for me,” Bucky lowered his voice and risked a glance at the blond trying to gauge his reaction.  But, rather typically of the brunet’s luck, Tony chose that moment to spring up from his position on the floor.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I could do with another drink.”  The moment was interrupted and Steve was smiling up at Tony, and holding out his glass in resignation.

“One more drink and then I’m going to bed.”

“Inviting yourself to stay are you.”  Steve rolled his eyes.  “Don’t worry grandpa, the guest rooms are made up.”

Somehow the journey back to Brooklyn seemed even worse at ass o'clock in the morning – especially with the impending prospect of work to look forward to.


	17. Chapter 17

Bucky hated the week after New Year.  It was the second worst working week of the year next to Black Friday week.  It was as though everyone realized what a load of shit they’d purchased over the festive period and immediately rushed into the store to get a refund.  This generally meant that while the sales floor was getting quieter, the returns department was getting busier and busier.  However, that didn’t mean the sales assistants felt compelled to help on the desk.  No, they were content to stand around playing on their phones and not even attempting to look busy.  And should a customer have the audacity to ask them for help with a return, they would simply point them in the direction of the queue on the returns desk.  Bucky _really_ hated people.

Plus, he’d struggled to work that morning through five inches of snow in the middle of a blizzard and people were _still_ queuing up to return their straightening irons.  And then they had the nerve to abuse the customer service employees because they had to come out in the bad weather.  As though they had been forced out of their houses into the weather at gun point.  They had thirty days to make returns.  Why they felt the need to come out in such God-awful weather was beyond him.

It was a complete joke.

He hated people.  Like really hated people.  With a passion that he had rarely felt for anything else in life.  And while his loathing for the majority of the human race had become a joke among his friends, he was beginning to wonder whether he had issues, because _surely_ people couldn’t be as bad as they seemed to him.

“Bucky to the manager’s office.  That’s Bucky to the manager’s office.”  Darcy’s voice came over the PA system.  Usually, he would take the excuse and run, but even Darcy wouldn’t call him into the manager’s office to goof off while the rest of the team were left to deal with hordes of customers, so he left the desk with an odd sense of dread.

Nevertheless, he made his way quickly across the store (eyes down, pace quick in a bid to avoid customers and staff alike).  He arrived in the back office in just over a minute, which was impressive even by his standards, and was in time to find Darcy sitting on Steve’s desk, laughing, and touching his shoulder.  The blond laughed along with her, and Bucky swallowed.  He felt like he’d walked in on something he shouldn’t have.

Dating a manager was strictly prohibited (in theory), but that had certainly never stopped anyone before.  However, Bucky found that seeing the somewhat intimate moment rather jarring.  Not that he had any real reason to be jealous – one conversation at New Year did not a relationship make - and not that he’d had any intention of pursuing any kind of relationship with Rogers (even if he was interested) but he had figured Steve was more professional than their previous managers.  Obviously, not.

“Uh, you called for me.”  He said as he knocked on the door.  Darcy turned around, her fingers still playing with a stray curl of her hair.  And _really_ did girls honestly think that worked on men?  And since _when_ was Darcy one of _those_ girls? And why the hell was he so bothered by it?  He liked Darcy because she didn’t pander to anyone, and yet put her in front of Steve Rogers and she turned into a simpering idiot. (And _maybe_ Bucky was just a little bitter that the blond was flirting back.)

“I’ll leave you guys to it.”  She said with a grin, and patted Bucky on the shoulder as she walked past.  Bucky watched as she headed off to the shop floor, when he turned back Steve was looking up at him, his blue eyes covered by his dark-framed glasses.  God Damn Bucky and his fucking penchant for Clark Kent types.

“I think someone has a crush.”  Bucky said.  “Which is somewhat depressing because I used to be her one and only and now I’m cast aside for the latest young man on the scene.  The younger model.”  Steve pulled a face.

“I don’t think - ” Steve started his reply but the brunet cut him off.

“Don’t even pretend you don’t realize that essentially everyone wants to sleep with you.”  Bucky was not in the mood for small talk.

“I – uh” Steve blushed.  “Everyone?”  He asked with a raised eyebrow and Bucky’s stomach did a weird flip.  That one word gave him a curious sense of hope.

“ _Almost_ everyone.” Bucky countered and Steve laughed.  The laugh was musically warm and Bucky couldn’t help but smile, despite his earlier annoyance.  “Anyway, what can I do with you bossman?”

“You can start by taking a seat.”  Bucky moved from his position in the doorway to take seat.

“Uh, cos that’s not ominous, at all.”  Bucky muttered.

“So, as you know, we are doing some reshuffling with the workforce.”  The blond started, his big hands folded together on the desk in front of him.

“This definitely doesn’t sound good.”  Steve tilted his head to the side in a curious manner.

“Why would you assume that?”  Bucky shrugged.  In his experience people didn’t get called to the office about staff shuffling if it wasn’t going to affect them.  “I didn’t call you in here to fire you.  I, uh, there are some… discussions that need to be made.  But the truth is; I’m looking to make replacements in-house.  I just figured that since you seem to really know what you’re doing that you might be interested in taking on some extra responsibilities.”

“Are you offering me a promotion?”  Bucky’s voice got an oddly squeaky tone to it.

“To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t asked for one before.”  Steve said honestly.

“There was a plan.”  Bucky admitted.  “It just – got delayed.”  Steve nodded.  “I mean, it’s a really nice offer, and I, uh, I really appreciate it.  But it’s just… I’m not… well I wanted to get into engineering but it’s just with the money for school and things….”  He shrugged.

“You know I could always speak to Tony…” Bucky gripped the arm of his chair.  The last thing he wanted, the very _last_ thing, was for Steve to turn into Natasha about his failed attempts at self-betterment.  Or, worse yet, the two of them to try and help him remedy it.  No, sir.  Those two should be kept apart at all costs before they started to try and organise his life.  He turned around and glanced at the door, surprised that the red-head wasn’t waiting for her chance to criticize his life choices.  Thankfully, the doorway was vacant and he turned to face his manager.

“I know you’re being nice, but I’d really rather make it on my own.”  He said, carefully.  Although, if the look on Steve’s face was any indication he didn’t do a good job of hiding his aggravation.

“Accepting help doesn’t mean you deserve to succeed.”  Steve replied, and Bucky blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.  He wasn’t unaware that he had a sizeable (read: country sized) chip on his shoulder regarding his career – or lack thereof – but that didn’t mean he could control his reactions to it.  “Everyone needs a little help from time to time.”

“I, uh, I just… I’ll think about it.”  Steve nodded, but looked less than convinced.  “But, uh, you should consider Clint to step up, I mean, he’s… well he’s a little…” he struggled for the word but Steve just looked down at his desk with a smile so Bucky figured he’d understood anyway.  “I think he’d really benefit from the experience.”

“Noted.”  Steve answered.  “But are you sure…” Bucky cut him off.

“If that’s all, I’d best get back to the desk.”  Bucky pushed himself out of the chair in a bid to end the conversation and the blond nodded in understanding.

“Okay, but, promise me you’ll think about what I said.  I know I moan about Tony, but he’s a good guy and he’ll do anything to help someone he thinks is worth the effort.”

“Yeah, okay.”  Bucky said as he walked out of the door.

It was a nice offer, but he didn’t want to owe Steve anything.  And  _maybe_ Bucky had some issues.


	18. Chapter 18

“Maybe someone should tell him that shirt is a little tight?”  Darcy looked horrified at the mere suggestion.

“So help me Sharon, if you do I’m going to disown you.  There are _very_ few things I enjoy about my job, and one of those is the slim chance that one day he is going to burst out of one of his shirts and have to walk around the store shirtless.  Do _not_ take that away from me.  I’m on edge here.”  She huffed out a breath and looked at Peggy who seemed quite as flustered as she was.

“Yes, but it can’t be….” Sharon started again, although her sentence was cut off.

“I’ll tell you what it is.  Good for staff morale.”  Peggy added, uncharacteristically het up.  “I mean, uh,” Darcy nodded her agreement, “it is quite a nice view.”  Sharon conceded the point with a small nod of her head, and all three women returned their attention to the blond, who hefted a large metal stand up and onto a pallet truck.  Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but appreciate the way the shirt accentuated the lines of Steve’s back.

“It’s not good for my ego.”  Clint threw in, appearing from behind the Canon SLR stand next to the girls.  The whole store had been uncharacteristically quiet all week and there were only so many times you could clean a display stand, or rearrange the repair bench.

“You know I still love your arms,” Darcy winked, apparently unfazed by Natasha’s temper, even though the red-head had appeared right next to her.  (When Natasha had first started people found her ability to appear out of nowhere highly disconcerting, but now they just accepted it.)  Bucky shot Natasha a look but she just shrugged and offered her boyfriend a conciliatory pat on the arm.  “No, but seriously, he looks like some sort of topless model... just... not naked enough,” she added at Bucky’s look of disbelief.

“I had a customer the other day who just stopped talking to me mid-sentence to stare at him,” Peggy admitted.  “To be honest, I can’t say I blamed her; he was wearing this really good dark blue and grey ensemble.”  She bit her lip to silence herself, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile.  Peggy had a reputation for being a bit of a hard ass, but she simply preferred to keep private business private and so it was highly amusing to see her so worked up over someone.

“Ohh, the one with the waistcoat?”  Darcy asked, and Peggy nodded.  “It was a _really_ good look on him,” she said fondly and then made a noise when Steve picked up a particularly heavy part of the display stand.  “Oh Christ.”  She huffed again and bit her lip.

“I’d definitely fuck him.”  Clint threw out the comment as though it was the most natural thing in the world.  Natasha looked like she was _really_ considering that image for a fraction of a second before her composure returned.  Bucky was beginning to suspect that there was something in the water because there was just no way this level of sexual frustration was normal.  He could almost smell the pheromones.

“I feel like I walked over at the wrong moment,” Sam said with a grin as he joined the group.  “What did a miss?”  He asked, and Bucky took a glance around to check that there were still no customers in the vicinity the desk before he replied.

“Steve is helping the rep move the Stark-audio stand around.  Apparently, something about this appeals to half of the store.”  The statement spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it.  And it wasn’t like he was jealous exactly, after all he wasn’t blind, Steve was a – _painfully_ – good looking guy but he had never seen the whole store so worked up by once person.

“Come on!”  Darcy practically had an aneurism, as though he had said something insulting, and even Natasha looked vaguely unimpressed.

“Like you wouldn’t?”  Clint levelled at look at his best friend which spoke volumes, and proved Bucky’s point.  Sam laughed.  And though Bucky tried to pass it off with a simple shrug, he found his eyes drawn to Steve.  From the casual jeans and t-shirt combination he wore to the dark scruff on his face and un-styled hair, Steve was looking particularly good.  Kind of like he belonged in a Diet Coke advert.  (Although, he had the briefest flash of Darcy’s head actually exploding if the blond took off his shirt.)  “… I mean, just look at his shoulders?  Christ, how the hell did he get that shape?  I need to get a look at his work-out.”  Natasha patted her boyfriend on the shoulder again.

“I’d like to ride on them like a bucking bronco.”  She said to the stunned silence of the group.

“Ohhh, now _there’s_ an image.”  Clint replied with a grin.

“You two are both, really weird.”  Sam commented, to Bucky’s nod of agreement.

“I’ll take seconds… or thirds… or really whatever he’s offering to be honest.”  Darcy said.

“Keeping it classy as always, Darce.”  Bucky commented and she winked at him.

“Always.”


	19. Chapter 19

“Guess what?”  Darcy bounced up next to Bucky.

“Thrill me.”  Bucky didn’t bother to look up from his aimless search of the internet.  Things had calmed down significantly after Christmas and he was enjoying the quiet time.

“I totally just found out that Wade is sleeping with Dum Dum’s daughter.”  Bucky finally looked up from his computer, and Alicia, who was sat on a roll of bubble wrap filing her nails, nearly fell over her own feet in her rush to stand up.

“Does _he_ know?”  She asked, trying to style out her half fall into some sort of weirdly excited dance move.

“Well, Gabe and Jim just found out so I give it about three minutes, tops.”  Darcy grinned sardonically.  Bucky had been asked more than once why he wasn’t a particular fan of television shows – in that moment, he suspected it was largely because his real life offered more amusement than your average soap opera.

All three of them exchanged a look, before rushing off the department and over towards the warehouse.  It wasn’t every day there could be a potential fight in the store, or at least not between two members of staff.

“Look after the desk, Stan.  Massive issue just gotta go and see what we can do?”  Bucky yelled at the resident octogenarian, who looked incredibly shocked to find that someone was speaking to him, as they rushed past him on route to the back of the store.

They arrived in the warehouse just in time to see Dum Dum’s face turn a vivid red; the vein on his neck looking like it was fighting for freedom.   _Oh shit, he knows._  Was all Bucky had time to think before the older man exploded in rage.  Wade was known for his sexual indiscretions.  Dugan was a _very_ proud father to two daughters, and was a former semi-professional boxer.

“You son of a bitch.”  He yelled, as Wade scrambled across a bulk stack of washing machines in his bid to escape the wrath of Dugan -which was _far_ scarier than the wrath of Khan as far as Bucky was concerned.  (Although, not as scary as the wrath of Natasha.)

“It’s not like that man.”  He begged, looking pleadingly at the growing crowd for any sort of assistance.  A few people - including Gabe Jones, Dugan's long suffering second in the warehouse - looked sheepishly at their feet.

“If you tell me you love her you’re going to regret it.”  Dugan replied through clenched teeth, the vein in his neck teetering on the edge of bursting and his face flushed with anger.

“But I do, I do.  I swear man.  We haven’t even done any of the kinky stuff.”  _That,_ Bucky thought, was definitely the wrong thing to say, judging by how red Dugan went.

“She’s eighteen.”  Next to him, Jim bravely opened his mouth to defend their younger friend.

“In his defence, he’s only a kid himself.”  Dum Dum rounded on his friend, and the younger man immediately shut his mouth.  “You’re on your own.”  He said somewhat sadly, stepping back to be absorbed into the crowd.

“Look, I’m not gonna hurt you, I just _really_ need to talk to you about this.”  Dugan said, calmly.  Wade seemed to consider it for a moment before he decided that it was a blatant attempt to coerce him into surrender.  Without warning, Dugan jumped over the pallet of toasters in front of the washing machine pile, causing the younger man to drive from his lofty position and skitter across the warehouse floor into the crowd of people.

Dugan was surprisingly quick on his feet and chased Wade through the warehouse.  The youngster hastily yanked on the rolling door’s cord and ducked underneath it, bearing left and heading to the relative safety of the cash office and its solid lock.  Unfortunately for him, he didn’t manage to get the door locked before Dugan reached the other side and the hefty man forced his way into the door.

“Listen… it’s not…” Dum Dum didn’t allow the younger man to finish and lunged for him.  Fortunately for Wade, who was cowering against the filing cabinet, the older man’s fist failed to connect as he was pulled bodily back from his quarry.  Unfortunately for Dugan, instinct took over, and he swung his elbow backwards to force his new opponent off him.  It connected with something solid, and he resumed his attack on Wade.  The crowd had followed the commotion and were bunched around the cash office window to watch what was going on.  They winced as Dugan was twisted back away from Wade and shoved face first into the window.

“What the hell is going on?”  Steve yelled, reaching up a hand to brush the blood off his injured nose.

“Please tell me someone was recording that?”  Darcy muttered to Bucky, who swallowed.  He opened his mouth to respond, but found that he had nothing of any value to add.  There was just zero point trying to deny how much that act of physicality had everyone salivating more than a man who’d just survived a week in the desert and was offered a beer.

“Both of you, my office.  Now.”  Steve ordered, before rounding on the crowd.  “Everyone else back to work.”  Yep, there was no arguing with that voice.  Jesus.

Wade and Dugan trudged into Steve’s office and Steve headed to the washroom to sort his nose.  The rest of the staff vacated the back offices slowly, none of them wanting to speak lest they face the wrath of Steve, which, according to all available evidence, was likely to be even more terrifying than the wrath of Natasha.

“I may never unsee that.”  Alicia commented, once they were safely out of earshot.  Darcy and Penny, who had joined them Alicia and Bucky on their journey back to the returns desk both nodded.

“I’m filing it away for later.”  Darcy said.  No hint of shame, despite the look of abject horror Alicia shot her.  “What?  Like I’m the only one thinking it.  He could man handle me _any_ day he wanted.”

“We _really_ need to get you laid.”  Bucky muttered.

“You volunteering, Barnes?”  She said with a wink and he rolled his eyes in response.  “I haven’t forgotten about you.”  She patted him on the arm and Bucky responded with a smile and a one-armed hug.

After all, it was nice to feel appreciated and he was all for changing the topic from _just_ how attractive Steve looked intervening on the fight.


	20. Chapter 20

Bucky had been pretty despondent about his life for a number of months – years really – but his hatred of his job had been increasing exponentially since the summer.  He wondered whether there really was a time limit on people’s productivity at certain jobs, or whether he had just been treated like shit one too many times.  Either way, he really didn’t want to be working in the store by the end of the upcoming summer, which meant that he was in desperate need of a life assessment.

Sure, he knew what he wanted it was just getting there was the problem.  It was fine for Natasha to tell him to speak to Stark but in all honesty, he couldn’t see why someone so brilliant would be willing to take a risk on someone so distinctly average.  After all, he had very little practical experience, no Master’s degree and, let’s face it, he was getting on a bit.  Had the opportunity presented itself when he had finished his degree he would have been far more inclined to take the leap, but he had his pride to consider.  For years, he had blamed the fact that he didn’t have the right connections to succeed, but if Stark rejected him he would have to face the fact that he just wasn’t good enough – that he didn’t want it enough.  (And really, wasn’t that part of the problem?  Did he honestly want it that much, when he was too scared to take that leap?)

On the other hand, if he never gave himself the chance then he would never be able to succeed.  He let out a puff of air in frustration.  Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that Nat and Steve had been right and that he should at least try and speak to Stark – even if the man could just give him some practical experience it would go a long way to getting him a job.  And even if it was at the bottom level, _anything_ was better than working another peak season in the store where dreams came to die.

He nodded once before he started laughing.  How fucked up was it that Tony Fucking Stark (Clint _swore_ that was his actual middle name), was now in his friends circle?  The same Tony Stark, who was _technically_ the CEO of the company he worked for, but was far more interested in research and development than running any of the subsidiary businesses of Stark Industries.  Granted he was on the fridges of Bucky’s small circle of friends but he was still there, still contactable.  The irony didn’t escape him.  He had sworn up and down for years that the reason he was so badly treated at work was because all the managers had their favourites and they stuck together – still true – but he was the one who was now associated with his managers’ managers’ manager. That really was sort-of hilarious.

At that moment, Gabe walked into the warehouse, interrupting Bucky’s thoughts.  He stopped dead when he finally noticed Bucky sat on the faulty washing machine with his whole body convulsing in silent laughter.  He raised an eyebrow at the scene and coughed loudly – as though Bucky hadn’t seen him come through the doors.

“Err, there’s a customer waiting for you.”  He said after a beat.

“Yep,” Bucky acknowledged with a shrug.  He could appreciate that he might have looked a little strange laughing alone among the faulty returns, but if Gabe didn’t mention it, he certainly wasn’t about to explain.

“Well, uh, what are you doing?”  There was no heat in the question, if anything Gabe sounded rather concerned.  So, hey, if he’d accomplished nothing else, at least he’d found someone else who vaguely cared about him.

“A customer wants to return their damaged dryer – which they bought from Manhattan – but they’ve already booked an engineer to it.”  Gabe looked distinctly nonplussed, so Bucky continued his explanation.  “Now it’s past six and Samsung are shut, they’ve decided they don’t want an engineer.  They’ve also decided that Manhattan is _suddenly_ too far to travel to, so they’ve decided to bring it back here.  Which is just fucking infuriating because Samsung will want to speak to the customer and if I exchange it we will be stuck with another damaged unit to sell.”

“Right…” Gabe prompted him to continue.

“Sitwell is on, and I have absolutely _no_ desire to be overridden by him.  So, I’ve decided to keep the customer waiting for a while and then give them their damn exchange.”  Gabe barked out a laugh.

“Do you things like that often?”

“Depends how much of a dick the customer is.”  The brunet admitted, and Gabe looked at him for a moment before stepping closer.  “I’ve been known to drink two cups of coffee while I’ve got customers waiting.”  He said with a shrug.

“I’ve completed my last three levels of candy crush while making customers wait for me to get stock from the back.”  He admitted, and Bucky smiled.  The service team had to take their petty revenges where they could.  The fact that his life had stooped so low was probably an indication of just how much he needed to get out of the place.

"Have you seen Wade or Dugan?"  Bucky asked, still not quite ready to deal with the customer.  Gabe joined him on the washing machine.

"Nah, but their suspension is up on Sunday, so I guess we'll be seeing them soon."  He shrugged.  "I heard that Wade was going around there for dinner - sort of a meet the parents thing I guess."  Gabe pulled a face.

"Er..."

"Well, I haven't read anything about a murder, so I guess things went well."  He shrugged again.  "Besides, I think Steve was more understanding of the whole thing once they could be in the same room together without someone ending up with a broken nose."  Bucky could help but smile.

"It certainly brightened up a boring day, though."

"Oh yeah.  And if someone had offered me two weeks paid suspension I wouldn't complain."  Gabe smiled.

"I'm not quite sure Dugan saw it that way...." Bucky couldn't imagine what it would be like to be suspended from work.  Especially for someone like Dugan who had worked there longer than Bucky and Clint.

"Yeah, but Steve was never going to fire them."

"He ended up with a broken nose."

"But he was laughing about it the next day.  Said it wasn't his first and it wouldn't be his last."  Gabe shrugged for a third time.  "I gotta say, I'd  _really_ like some context to that statement."

"Probably looked at some dude's girlfriend and she passed out in delight."  Bucky rolled his eyes, and his friend laughed.

"He is a very good looking man."  Gabe conceded.  "I was hoping for a little seedier though.  Like a robbery gone wrong, or a fight for the honor of some unknown girl.  Or - like - a gun fight or some shit."  He clapped his hands together.

"I -" Bucky paused for a moment. "Does everyone have some sort of crush on him?"

"I don't have a crush.  I'm just saying that the he's just the kind of guy everyone likes.  It's impossible not to."

"I think Sitwell might disagree."  This time Bucky shrugged.

"Well everyone knows that he's a dick."

"No arguments here."  He agreed, jumping off the washing machine.  "Well, I guess I'd better get back to my customer."

"Oh, same."  Gabe laughed.  "I didn't even mean to leave them waiting this time."  He chuckled to himself.


	21. Chapter 21

The thing about working in a big store was the fact that the stock file was _literally_ never accurate.  In part this was because some idiot at group security saw fit to make the stock loss target the same as the Jersey store, which was about a third of the size, and the managers liked to cook the numbers to make things seem better than they were, which only served to perpetuate the problem.  However, mainly, the stock file was all over the place because sales assistants insisted on selling things that weren’t in stock, or worse yet selling stock which had been forward ordered for other customers which meant that someone – Bucky, usually – had to explain to said customer why their item had not arrived in store.

All this meant that whenever the bi-annual audit rolled around the store stock file was in complete disarray.  However, having worked ever audit since he started, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that somehow said sales assistants couldn’t seem to be coerced into working a eighteen-hour day to correct the stock file.  (Which wasn’t completely fair, since both Darcy and Natasha worked the audits, but they very rarely made mistakes – and even if they did Bucky actually liked them so he was inclined to exclude them from his general low opinion of sales staff.) 

Sometime during the second day, which was technically the first day as he certainly hadn’t been to sleep, Bucky was almost certain he was delusional.  The handful of staff who were expected to stay for the investigation portion of the audit had been there all night and even Natasha was looking a little worse for wear.  It was a tradition that Darcy would bring in some of her famous cupcakes for those doing the night shifts, and that someone – usually, Clint – would do a coffee run at around 3am.  By eight am, everyone was flagging and Sam would arrive to start his dayshift with a tray of espressos and everyone would soldier on until they hit the button to record the final figure.

Or, that was how it usually went.  This particular audit Sam had been late for work, and had failed to bring the espressos, so the night shift staff were forced to survive on the tepid dishwater coloured liquid which passed for coffee in the canteen.  To make matters worse, the stock file was all over the place.  Bucky had managed to count over three hundred additional mobile data sticks.  According to the stock file they should have had fifty-three, Bucky counted nearly four hundred.  (And he had scanned every single one of those fuckers in, so when Dum Dum suggested that maybe he had typed in the wrong digits into the PDT, he had _not_ taken it well at all.)

“Oh God, I’m telling you I’m going to marry that man.”  Clint appeared out of nowhere, looking entirely too happy for someone who had been awake for so long. 

“Huh,” Bucky mumbled – verbose as ever.

“Firstly, Steve totally just wrote off an espresso machine and a bunch of coffee.  And I am going to marry him because I have _never_ needed coffee as much as I need it right now.”  Bucky nodded, dumbly.  “Seriously, I think Nat had a tear in her eye when she found out.”

“Right, coffee.”  Bucky said, as Clint wrapped an arm around him and lead him off towards the canteen.  “I could probably use a break, if I have to look at another cellular data dongle or a SD card I’m going to cry.”

“Oh, you haven’t even heard the second reason for impending marriage.”  Bucky raised a questioning eyebrow.  “Steve said that we just have to make sure that the stock count is accurate – which means because of your dongle count we are currently ten grand _over_.”  Bucky closed his eyes, he had thought that Steve was above cooking the books, but apparently not.  “ _And_ , we’ve lost a fuckton of graphics cards.  But I overheard Steve on the phone to Maria, and he wants the whole thing investigated because he’s been through the audit trail-” Bucky shot Clint a surprised look, “- I know, right?  The dude actually knows how to check those things.  Man, I swear the guy is perfect.”  Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Okay, and why has this made you so happy this morning?”

“ _Because_ , he said the only way that could happen is if someone was putting things on the receipts that customers weren’t getting, which is gross misconduct.  And you know that dongles affect out sales number, so you _know_ that managers are involved in that shit.  And Sitwell is already skating on thin ice, and I live to see that fucker suffer!”  Clint and Sitwell had a very strained relationship, stemming back to Sitwell’s first day over five years previously.  Clint had been late to work, and Sitwell had called him into ‘his office’ – read: the training room – and threatened his job.  Since that day, the two had been at loggerheads.

“Well, I can’t say I’ll be sad to see any of them in trouble.”

“Well, Nat said that the impression that she gets from Fury is that Steve was sent here to separate the chaff from the wheat and that its essentially his job to rid me of that asshole.”  Clint grinned.  “Seriously, I think I’m in love with him.”  Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“What does Nat think about that?”

“Honestly?  I think she’d like to join in – and you _know_ she hates people almost as much as you.”  Bucky laughed, it was one of Natasha’s many fine qualities.  “Anyway, tell no one.”  He said, as he entered the code to get into the back offices.

“Obviously – Oh God, smell the coffee.”  Bucky took in a long breath of coffee scented air.

“Husband material.  I’m telling you!”  Clint nodded as they entered the staffroom to find most the audit shift savouring the taste of fresh espresso drinks.  Bucky made himself a triple shot cappuccino, and glanced over at Steve, who was sat in a huddle with Darcy – who, genuinely, looked as though she was about burst with happiness, probably owing to the fact that her caffeine addiction was even more advanced that Bucky’s own – and Natasha – who, Bucky could swear _did_ have watery looking eyes.  The blond looked up, glancing in Bucky’s direction, and he held up his cup in a silent thanks.

There was no use in arguing with Clint on this one, Steve was pretty much awesome for getting them all a caffeine fix, and providing them with the only decent coffee Bucky had ever tasted in the breakroom. 


End file.
